


"LEMON ICED COCONUT CAKE AND COFFEE"

by DrMorbius



Series: "LEMON ICED COCONUT CAKE AND COFFEE" [1]
Category: Adam Driver - Fandom, Adam Driver fandom, This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 74,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26148745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrMorbius/pseuds/DrMorbius
Summary: Do you ever wonder what happened to Phillip Altman after his brother Judd left for New York?Do you ever wonder what happened to Phillip Altman after his Fiancé Tracy ditched him for an 'Adult'?Do you ever wonder what he did with his screw up life after his siblings left him behind to live their own lives?Phillip Altman, 6"3 - slim - dark - well built - foolish and handsome, and now available, is living with his mother Hilary, who's more interested in her new book and girlfriend to bother about what the hell he gets up to in his life.But he's a clever man, he's also fast and loose, the ladies of the town soon realised he was on the market again, and have made full use of his 'facilities'.He's been happy enough to cruise the wave of skirt and pussy for some time, until he asked Janine out one day on a whim.And met her housemate.A Fic which I have close to my heart, and I am thanking @wayward-rose for helping me get this out to the reader, I owe her my most heartfelt thanks.
Relationships: Phillip Altman/Original Character(s), Phillip Altman/Original Female Character(s), Phillip Altman/Reader, Phillip Altman/You, Phillip Altman/original character
Series: "LEMON ICED COCONUT CAKE AND COFFEE" [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898869
Comments: 35
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter One

_ Part One _

"You're off your head you are, I mean look at you, all dolled up for some dude you've known a month and what do you do? Go all squiffy girly and weak at the knees, you're the dictionary definition of Needy."

"Nice coming from someone who thinks all men are idiots, what do you know, you don't know shit."

"Yeah well you've not been able to prove me wrong yet have you?"

The girl in tight red jeans and frilly pink blouse stood at the mirror behind the front door, checking makeup, hair, lipstick, breath, shoes, time on her phone, time on her watch, time on the living room clock. Reaching over for the glass which stood on the hall table next to her, took a long swig and finished it.

"And dutch courage too, I thought you said you knew him?"

"I do!"

"So what you need that for?"

"Just one of my getting ready rituals."

"Hmm, explains Taylor Swift at full volume then"

"She's a groove"

"Sounds more like she's stuck in one."

"You gonna be mean to me till he gets here?"

"Yep" 

She popped the P.

"Well fine, just shut up when he does alright?"

"If he does, my money's on him reaching the corner of the road then bottles it."

"What does that mean?"

"What?"

"Bottles it? Shit you speak rubbish, you're all over the damn place."

"It means, you pillock, that he will chicken out, give it up, lose his nerve, you can do better than him, I mean, how many jobs you say he's had in the past year?"

"Four"

"Consistent bugger isn't he?

"Jealous"

"Oh that took all of five seconds, yes I'm jealous, green with it, utterly and totally head over heals jealous of a man who's no job, car his ex girlfriend paid for, older brothers who hate his guts, a mother who writes about teenage sex and a sister who brawls in public, yeah I'm really jealous."

The girl with the attitude sat in the comfy armchair by the bookcase, a favourite spot and one she'd claimed the first week she'd moved in. Safe and warm, cool in summer with a view down the street, a prime spot to watch the world go by.

"You've never met them, dont judge."

"Don't need to, read her book."

"You haven't?"

"Yep, took me two days to get through that tripe, badly written, badly edited and banal, you Americans will write anything and call it highbrow. More like mono-brow to me."

"Snob"

"Yeah yeah yeah."

The sound of breaks and loud rap music disturbed the English style ambient dance tunes in the house. A slam of a car door, a pause and footsteps thundering down the garden path, a massive thump thump followed on the front door. 

"He's here"

"Really, you sure it's not the police, with a bang like that I'm surprised he's not caved the door in?"

The woman in pink and red, lets call her Janine, checked her lipstick, again, took a deep breath and opened the door with a flourish. She hardly had time to speak before the man pushed himself over the threshold, took her up in his arms and kissed her deeply.

"So much for the lipstick"

The sound of snogging, wet and lewd, his hands everywhere. 

The girl in the chair, let's call her Helen, slipped down the back and hid behind her book. Did the two of them have to make this so obvious, could they not, at least, wait till he got to his car?

Eventually, after lifting Janine off the floor in a flurry of giggles, he set her down again, tapped her on the arse and let her go.

"Ready sweetcheeks?"

"Utter bollocks" 

Helen whispered to her book.

"Let me just get my bag" 

Janine tottered up the stairs rather unsteadily, Helen expected this date to follow her. 

He didn't.

"Smells nice in here" 

The man stood by the hall table, checking his casual suit in the mirror, pulled hands through his hair and stood preening his goatee.

"Smells like a wind up to me" 

Helen wondered if one day the book would talk back. 

She knew all about this guy's background. 

Knew about his family and knew Janine would have all of about 5 minutes before he had her jeans around her ankles and blouse on the back seat of his car.

Yet it had taken him a month to ask her out.

Poor Janine.

Despite the bickering Helen liked her, but she wasn't about to stop her getting her pleasure from this man. He didn't seem much more than a fuck buddy anyway.

If that's what they were called. 

He certainly had the build to sustain a night's sexual adventures.

"So" 

He began, stepping towards Helen, his hands in pockets, tapping the heel of his boot with his other foot.

Oh here we go. 

Watch this he's trying to make small talk with the token fat, white foreign girl!

This should be fun.

Yawn.

"Enjoying your book?"

Smooth, very smooth. 

Helen didn't think it worth lifting her eyes from the page. 

"I'm here, sorry you had to wait"

Janine squealed as she sashayed down the stairs.

Helen threw them the victory V from behind her copy of M.R. James 'Collected Ghost Stories of an Antiquary'

"Yeah all of thirty seconds wasn't it you poor hard done to boy, now go get laid, just get out of the house, shit on your own doorstep." Whispered to poor Professor Parkin being chased up the beach at Burnstowe by a white sheet wanting to eat his soul.

"Don't wait up!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The sound of Janine's giggling, a whoosh of air and the two of them dashed down the path to his Porsche.

I mean, what older girlfriend buys her young boytoy one of those and expects him to stay faithful? Helen wouldn't even have bought him a pair of roller skates, and those were more fitting to the mentality of;

A 30 year old child.

===============

There is no music loud enough, on the planet, to drown out the constant yelling and thump moaning from the room next door.

Not even Death Metal and Helen had tried that. 

Maybe Drum and Bass? 

No that had only made it worse, finally attempting Ambient in her earphones, a move away from the wall, sleeping at the opposite end of her bed, she could still feel vibrations in her feet and toes.

This house sharing thing was not going to work.

Reservations of moving in had been voiced after Zoe had suggested it a month ago. 

Her friend from the library needed help with the rent on her father's old house, she asked Helen to move in after she heard she'd fallen on a dry spell, her boyfriend had moved states and she'd lost her job.

Of course with Zoe came; 

Janine. 

They interviewed Helen at a local bar over cocktails (Helen had drunk cider) the two had decided she was the Third Horseman and they moved her in a couple of days later.

Not that she was easy to live with. 

After a week Janine knew why the boyfriend had upped sticks further up the East Coast.

Helen found out why they needed a third tennant. 

Money was tight. 

The girls liked to drink and party, Helen's no oil painting so wasn't any competition. That suited them down to the ground. One boyfriend had been enough to put Helen off for life, and what she couldn't get from her expensive vibrating silicone friends she could get from her books.

Selfish, self centred, vain, superior and British to add insult to injury. 

Her parents had moved over for work, then left her behind as their jobs and marriage changed. Helen had stayed, used her parents last support cheque to retain her dual citizenship, but lost none of her snobbishness or smug behaviour.

Or her accent.

She was as easy to live with as they were.

Still, rent was rent, they did have a good time (when men weren't involved) and despite first month jitters and moving in adjustments, the three of them had rubbed along pretty well. A few squabbles, one or two tweaks of the washing and cleaning duties and they were all set.

Helen asked to be solely responsible for the garden, which Zoe and Janine had both been eager to offload, in return they did the ironing and cleaned the house. 

Fair is fair and Helen was snug as a bug in a rug.

Till he came along.

Typical.

A man turning things upside down. 

Zoe wasn't interested in sex she said. Some childhood thing she didn't like to talk about and that was fine because they understood. They didn't push her, they enjoyed her company, she had her job and was content.

Helen was too snobby and overweight to be good material. 

Janine however.

She liked men. 

A lot. 

Bless her and she had tried to hook Helen up once or twice, kind hearted attempts when she saw she was lonely or needed a pick me up. Instead of buying her a book (which would have helped more) Janine tried a blind double date.

Helen still had nightmares about that night. 

Bored stiff. 

Trying to stop him touching her.

Eventually resorting to a full on slap to the face which had her on a suspended assault charge, him in the ER with a broken nose and Janine losing Boyfriend No 12.

It was August.

12 in 8 months.

Can you see why Helen was annoyed with No 13!

===============

The banging had stopped, finally. 

She hadn't timed them not on this occasion anyway, the thought of what was going on should have been enough for Helen to pack her bags and leave for the next house. 

The next town. 

The next continent. 

He'd been the one making all the noise. 

Christ the man could bellow. 

Like a Rhinoceros after a year's abstinence, half wondering if it were for Janine's benefit or for the two other ladies of the house, Helen sat at her laptop in the middle of the night looking for house shares in your area.

Nothing in her price range, nothing suitable that wasn't either a new build Architectural Digest story book shag pad, or a flea ridden knock me up two up two down in the middle of town. 

Instead she hooked up Amazon and ordered noise cancelling headphones on Prime Delivery. 

She was not going to put up with another night;

Of that!

===============

Zoe had the coffee on early this morning.

A morning shift at the Library, a disturbed nights sleep and a sneaky suspicion that when Helen got up she'd be in a foul mood.

Correct.

She was, and now sitting at the kitchen table with a pot of tea brewed, but Helen soon lost her edge as Zoe chattered and pottered around the kitchen. Both of them dreading the moment Janine walked in with the new guy.

Maybe he'd eaten and run, Zoe thought spitefully. Her room was down the hallway, but she'd still heard the crescendo of the symphony.

"She comes in walking funny I won't be at all surprised" 

Helen spread thick strawberry jam on her toast, reading a copy of 'Archaeology Today' which had come in the post that morning.

"She sounded like she was in pain"

"Sounded more like he was, did you hear what he shouted?"

"I've a feeling she might be upset, it was his last girlfriend's name wasn't it?"

"I didn't hear that, oh no that must have been when I was listening to Mr Scruff, oh poor Jan" 

Helen crunched through her toast and decided she wasn't going to upbraid her about last night after all. 

She knew how it felt to be treated to the ex's name in the throws of orgasm.

Or at least what her ex believed was her orgasm.

Helen hadn't had a real one till she'd upgraded to her third vibrator.

It had made her laugh;

Then cry.

"I'm making a quick getaway, you swinging by at lunch?" Zoe gulped at the dregs of her coffee in her favourite 'Baker of the House' mug.

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all, you can help me with the periodicals if you like"

"You got the stuff in from Phaidon yet?"

"Comes in today, you're looking forward to this aren't you?"

"Yep, 'bout time the Uni Library got some arty stuff, see you at 12.30?"

"Looking forward to it, see ya Sweetie" Zoe lifted her bag from the floor, checked her newly braided cornrows, hauled on her jacket and slipped out quietly.

"So now Young Man, which way are you going to go, apologetic or disinterested?" 

Helen flicked over to 'Odd Socs' the back page article about unusual British societies, this month it was 'The Coracle Society'.

_ 'Giraldus Cambrensis (Gerald of Wales;c 1146-1223) described these ancient boats of oxhide stretched over woven willow frame as 'made by the Welsh for fishing and cross...' _

**THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP**

"Oh for crying out loud not again!"

She threw the magazine across the kitchen table, standing up and looking at the ceiling as if it were all it's fault.

**THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP**

"This is the absolute limit" A poured cup of tea in her thermos mug, Helen grabbed her gardening shoes and beat a hasty retreat to the shed, not forgetting her MP3 player and earphones. 

Janine's room overlooked the garden. 

Hoping that the bedroom window was shut Helen looked up gingerly through Zoe's freshly laundered blue and yellow satin pillows, fluttering in the morning breeze.

The window was closed, but the curtains weren't.

"I'm moving out, sod this." She put on her sunglasses, turned up the volume and began to mow the lawn.

Whoever he was, he had a very; 

Very nice arse.

Yes indeedy.

Whoop Whoop

That's the sound of da police.

===============

"His name's Phillip"

"Yeah we know you screamed it."

"You sure your's isn't Tracy?" 

Zoe had listened to Helen grumpily moaning all afternoon, she was in no mood to listen to Janine's sexual adventures as well, not now not ever, rubbing at a sore spot at the top of her spine, wishing she weren't so tired all the time.

"It was a mistake, he did say sorry."

"Then just carried on fucking you I expect?"

"Umm..."

"Oh Jan this isn't fair on you girl, come on he's a waste of space."

"His dick has a motor on it"

"Yeah well so does mine, all I have to do is charge it up once a week and no risk of catching anything either!" 

Helen, nose in her book, was watching the argument unfold. 

"I... he's the best I can do right now okay? Anyway he's taking me to meet his mommy tonight, that's got to be good, right?" 

She looked at them both for assurance, Zoe was crocheting a scarf, Helen was reading 'Dune' again, silently mocking the word 'Mommy'.

"Jan, really can't you be happy on your own for a bit?"

"I don't want to be on my own"

"You're not"

"Not the same Hels... he made me feel great, several times and..."

"This morning too... look if he's gonna be a fixture can you at least get him to turn the volume down, or move your bed to the other wall? I'm begging, I can't go another night of him sounding like he's running a fuckin marathon." 

Helen put her book on the arm of her chair, walked over to Janine on the sofa and put her arm around her.

"Look... I'm pleased for you, I know you've been lonely but really,  _ Phillip Altman _ ?"

"He's nice looking, funny..."

"When?"

"Well..."

"Only when its suits him and when he wants to get you all oops upside ya head, which from what Hels tells me, was just as he picked you up last night."

"He had her on the hallway rug, never even said hello, nothing like you look nice Jan, you've made yourself look real pretty Jan, I'm proud to be taking you out Jan, please allow me. Oh no just wham bam tongue down the throat and off her feet. You should play hard to get you know, it wouldn't hurt once in a while" 

Helen hugged a reluctant Janine to her shoulder playfully, trying to take the sting out of her unwanted unasked for advice."

"He's not that kind of guy"

"We know"

"Why does everyone know more than I do?"

Zoe and Helen looked at each other, eyes to the ceiling.

"Because he's talked about around town a lot. Most of the girls at the Uni know him, or have had some kind of encounter with Mr Handsy."

"What we're trying to say is that he's a reputation, and not a nice one either. I think I heard him referred to as 'Dick Swab' the other day"

Helen sniggered, the last time she'd heard that was in 'Killing Eve' and it wasn't meant as a compliment.

"He's had a lot of girlfriends yeah, I know that"

"So it hasn't put you off?"

"Why should it, I think I may be able to tame him."

"From how it sounded last night I doubt that Jan, did you err... you played it safe?"

Zoe sat on Janine's other side, a girl sandwich on the sofa.

"Course I did what you take me for?"

"Sorry... course you did just... well I wouldn't trust a man who's slept with the majority of the sorority"

"Haha that rhymed... Zoe you're a poet and you don't know it"

"This isn't funny you two, you only want me to be like you, old maids knitting and writing stories for Readers Digest" 

Janine struggled up from the sofa to stand by the fire, arms folded over her ample bosom.

"That's not fair, anyway it's Ao3"

"Well you never move from your chair in the evening, it's got your ass's impression in it so fuckin deep that no one else can sit down in it without rolling to the left"

"Hey come on that's..."

"And you're just as bad, you party with me but I know your heart's not in it anymore"

Zoe looked ashamed, held her head back as Helen flew up to start the argument afresh.

"You thoughtless bugger... you spend all last night and most of this morning shagging like Energizer bunnies and you expect us to clap you on the back and say well done, congratulations to you Jan for bedding the single biggest man slag in town. You really are off your tits, try thinking between your ears for a change and not your legs, maybe then you'll get somewhere."

Plonking herself back in her armchair, held her head in her hands shaking with anger.

"I do still like to go out"

"Zoe don't placate the dick whipped cow... I've had enough of this already. If she can't wake up and smell the spermicide then I don't wanna know anymore. Anyway I'm moving out"

"What?" Zoe looked shocked, without her welfare cheque the two of them would be in dire straits.

"I've been looking for a while, it's good of you to put up with me, I know I'm not the most social and well... before you say it Jan it's been coming for a while, and no it's nothing to do with you, I only want you to be happy, and he won't make you happy. Calling his ex's name when he shags you, tearing off at light speed down a residential road, yes yes I was watching you both, and I expect he'd his hand up your shirt before you even made it to the main road."

Janine couldn't contradict that.

"I've saved enough for a deposit and an interview on Monday for a job, so I guess this is my notice to quit. Sorry girls, it's been fun, it's been an eye opener."

"Let's hope you don't get the job"

"What?"

"Well I like you coming over with my lunch, I've gotten used to it, it's cute."

"Oh you two get a room" Janine, self centred and out of the limelight was uncomfortable with this new competition for her friends affection.

"Shut the fuck up Jan I have, you want to party that's great and we have such a laugh, but we're getting older, I can't do it anymore... no no listen, last time we went to a club I got felt up three times, had some woman breathing down my neck asking if I wanted to join her church and I didn't get over the hangover for a week, I'm not doing this anymore either."

"Okay, so two against one then..."

"It's not a case of that, we are, well... I guess we're growing up, all except Hels who seems to have been born grown up"

"Hey"

"Joke!"

"Ha ha not funny"

"Look Jan... all we're asking is if perhaps you stay at his for a few nights, especially if he insists on shouting his ex girlfriend's name when he cums."

"Fine..."

Oh dear.

All ladies know what Fine means.

===============

**THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP**

Merry, peppery hot hell was let loose that Friday night.

Late.

Zoe and Helen had come back from a bar by the Library. 

An informal after hours get together with all her work friends which had turned out a real blast, they were interesting to listen to, spoke about lots of different subjects.

Funny. 

Relaxed. 

Sober. 

One of them had taken a shine to Zoe, making eyes, winking, smiling and grinning. Zoe was embarrassed until she saw Helen's face, a picture of encouraging friendliness.

Zoe had clicked!

The music wasn't overly loud, it was comfortable and the two girls, on their walk back home made a deal, all they had to do was tell Janine.

And she wasn't going to like it much.

**THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP**

They knew as soon as they saw the Porsche on the drive that they were in for trouble. 

Zoe's heart sank, hoping to god that the two of them had made it upstairs and weren't humping madly over the sofa or worse, the kitchen table. 

Her safe space.

Janine knew that was her safe space.

Key in her hand, standing on the front porch she could hear Phillip's voice yelling.

**THUMP... THUMP THUMP... THUMP**

"Helen... I'm a coward, would you go first?"

**THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP...THUMP.... THUMP... THUMP**

She looked startled as the tempo changed, then a tremendous yell, joined by Janine's part satisfied squeal. 

"I'm gonna not like what I see am I?"

"It's alright Zoe I promise, they're both consensual, both adults I think, I hope ( _ in sotto voce _ ) just sit on the step, be a minute." 

Leaving a terrified young black lady nervously twirling her braids, a quick pinch of her shoulder to try to sooth, Helen opened the front door, eyes closed trying to detect the direction the symphony was being conducted from.

Not the sofa. 

Well there's a blessing, not the kitchen table either as Helen smiled to remember a line of a George Michael song. 

They weren't outside in the moonlight, her garden was pristine and calm.

"Now do I shout or do I laugh?"

"Helen?"

"Hang on in there Zoe" She poked her head out the front door motioned to stay put. Moving to the stereo she turned it on, chose the loudest song she could think of on her MP3 player, turned up the volume to maximum.

"Oh god no... not the Peppers, please no not the Peppers?"

"Hold on to your Cornrows girl this is gonna be feckin loud dude!"

Hit play and put her fingers in her ears. 

She ran to Zoe's side as Hell let loose in the house, guitar riffs were tearing the peace apart.

_ All around the world _

_ We could make time rompin' and a stompin' _

_ 'Cause I'm in my prime _

_ Born in the north and sworn to entertain ya _

_ 'Cause I'm down for the state of Pennsylvania _

_ I try not to whine but I must warn ya _

_ 'Bout the motherfuckin girls from California _

_ Alabama baby said hallelujah _

_ Good god girl I wish I knew ya _

_ I know I know for sure  _

_ That life is beautiful around the world _

_ I know I know it's you _

_ You say hello and then I say I do _

_ Come back baby 'cause I'd like to say _

_ I've been around the world back from Bombay _

_ Fox hole love pie in your face _

_ Living in and out of a big fat suitcase _

_ Bonafide ride step aside Mike Johnson _

_ Yes I could in the woods of Wisconsin _

_ Wake up the cake it's a lake she's kissin' me _

_ As they do when when they do in Sicily _

Helen and Zoe were sitting on the step, hugging each other as they heard thumping feet down the stairs. They both turned crying with laughter as a very angry, very tall, very naked young man stood at the bottom of the stairs, a heavy table lamp in his hand, ready to fight off a potential intruder.

_ You say hello and then I say I do _

"Well Hello Mr Sexy... if I was a Burglar catching sight of  _ that  _ coming towards me would scare me enough to go on the straight." 

Helen took a quick glance up and down a semi hard male, the first time for several months.

He was furious.

He was livid.

He was ripped.

Zoe held on to the step rail, trying to stop the laughter collapsing her again.

The sight of two young, attractive women laughing at him as he stood in the hallway, post coital and sweating, ready to take a swing at an intruder was enough to stop his ego in its tracks. Janine had time to put a gown on at least, the song only encouraged the laughter to erupt as they both sang;

_ I know, I know for sure _

_ Ning, nang, nong, nong, neng, neng, nong, nong, ning, nang _

_ I know, I know it's you  _

_ Ning, nang, nong, nong, neng, neng, nong, nong, ning, nang _

_ Mother Russia, do not suffer _

_ I know you're bold enough _

_ I've been around the world _

_ And I have seen your love _

Helen and Zoe were dancing together on the porch, swaying hips clicking fingers like two mad backing singers, all his scowling and muttering under his breath was only making the situation funnier.

"What the  _ fuck _ ?"

"We're home  **Pencil Dick** !" Zoe laughed, spinning around in hysterics.

"Oh my god Phillip..." Janine beat a hasty retreat upstairs.

"You women are  _ fucking _ nuts" He held the lamp stand against his crotch attempting to cover his penis with pale coral pink porcelain.

"Hang on Zoe isn't that what he's supposed to be doing... I'm a little, ahem, confused?"

"You know I think it was..." Their laughter began again, he heard the two of them snorting and giggling as he padded angrily upstairs, turning to watch as the black girl pointed at his penis and sniggered, the taller white girl shaking her blonde head in pity and disdain.

"Cheeky bitches"

===============

So peace was settled. 

The battle over for now. 

Yet the war had only just begun.

===============


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interviews and ice-cream
> 
> And the famous Lemon Wrap-Around Dress

Monday.

The interview did not go according to plan, hell do they ever? 

Helen had a situation to deal with before she even left the house, Janine had decided to strop all weekend, leaving a mess before she left for Phillip's fuckathon.

And at his Mommy's house, how sweet!

Ergh.

With the front room and kitchen put to rights she realised her interview suit was covered in dust, a swab down with a damp kitchen cloth only made matters worse. Jan had used it to wipe off a stain, she daren't think what of, so the suit skirt was ditched for an almost matching trouser. 

Then she was late, the bus had broken down so she had to walk half a mile.

The interview went well for the previous applicant, so well that the interviewer had already made up his mind that the woman with the biggest rack would get the job.

Helen wasn't even a Double D.

So there you go. 

It's not what you know or even if you're qualified, it's how big are your tits and do you give out on a Friday night after one cocktail and a bag of chips? 

Crisps in England... chips came with a battered sausage and curry sauce for goodness sake.

She missed the chip shop. 

Burger joints weren't her bag at all. 

And walking past the most popular on the way home, saw a most unfriendly, yet interesting sight.

One black Porsche.

Top down.

Engine warm. 

As she walked past he exited, arms full of bags and drinks, a rush order. Helen was very tempted to trip the twat up, see the bags fly out of his hands and their contents land all over his car. 

A point scored for the women of the town to see the man slag put out for a change.

Nah not worth it, he 'wasn't worth shit' as Zoe liked to put it.

"Hey you... cheeky bitch."

Was she being addressed? 

She wasn't going to answer to that epithet. 

No way no how Buster Rhymes.

"I'm talking to you... hey you in the two tone suit"

She walked on. 

She was better than this.

A few more yards to the turn onto another street, she took it and breathed relief.

Not for long.

"Hey... two tones... want a burger?" Throwing cold fries at her head.

He'd swung out and onto her street, driving to match her pace she could hardly hear what he was shouting over his music. Rubbish cheap tacky rap music, too many pimps and hoes. 

It was utter bollocks.

And not the dogs bollocks either.

Had he never heard of real authentic classical Hip Hop?

"Stuck up Brit"

The engine roared off down the street leaving Helen in his dust, he threw an empty burger carton out the car, it landed at her feet.

"American Idiot"

===============

"He did what?"

"I didn't hear most of it, seems to think DMX is fo' real shit, so plays it loud as he can get it, arseole."

"You see Jan with him?"

"Nope but I can bet that's where he was going, tell the truth I half expected to see his car on our drive again."

"What after Friday, I should think our outburst put him off, men like him don't like to be laughed at, unless it's on their terms."

"So are we going out or staying in?"

"I did cook something to celebrate your interview, but since it sucked balls..."

"It did"

"Then we eat it anyway"

"Nice to me Zoe... thanks"

"You're not gonna cry are you?"

Helen was looking tearful, she couldn't help it, his spiteful comments were the start. 

"Bastard"

"Stop... I mean it don't make me get mad at you gurl, come on now Hels, don't let him make you cry '' Zoe had her arm around Helen's shoulders.

"I've just... oh Zoe I'm sorry.... It's just been such a shit day, no no I'll be okay, didn't want that rubbish job anyway."

She picked up a fork and ogled home made lasagne.

===============

Round Two

That bloody Porsche was sitting in the park.

At a slant to the road like he didn't know how to drive it. 

At all. 

He must have swung it against something hard and immobile, it now sported a very fetching yellow stripe and pleasingly large dent on the front nearside bumper.

Zoe laughed as she walked past, she was meeting up with her supervisor, informally. Her first date in years and she was nervous.

Helen sat three benches away by the lake, book in hand (she never travelled without one) her phone in her pocket and an expectant happy look on her face. Zoe's supervisor looked just as nervous, pretty in a white sweater with crystal stars sewn into the wool, smart black pleated skirt.

"I've my fingers crossed for you sweetie" Helen murmured to her book, taking a pull on her bottle of sugar free lemonade she watched discreetly as Zoe greeted Consuela and sat down on the bench. 

Helen was the fall back if it all went south.

They were both beaming. 

Zoe had been baking, she always did when she was worried or nervous, half a dozen scones, a loaf of cheese 'n' onion bread and a date and walnut cake. Helen's favourite, as if she were making up for something.

Helen told her she had nothing to make up for, go for it, grab a bit of happiness and to hell with the world as she pinched Dates from the mixing bowl. Zoe had dabbed at her fingers with the wooden spoon playfully. 

Zoe opened up her cake box as Consuela poured her thermos into two cups, an impromptu picnic in the cool sunshine of early September. Helen buried her nose in her book, made herself comfortable and got swept along with Professor Challenger and Lord John Roxton in 'The Lost World'.

"Hey you... cheeky..."

She was reading her favourite chapter "Question!'' The whole of the student body had turned out as Professor Challenger was due to speak, the lecture theatre was descending into uproar as the professors began to argue among themselves. It was the funniest chapter of a book she'd read outside of the scene in the church hall from Stephen King's 'Needful Things'.

"Hey you deaf?"

_ 'I beg pardon, Ladies, Gentlemen and Children, I must apologize, I have inadvertently omitted a considerable section of this audience' _

Professor Challenger had begun his speech.

"So deaf as well as cheeky... well I'm joining you whether you hear me or not"

Phillip Altman, 6ft 3, slim build, wide shoulders, dark hair, early thirties.

Or at least that's part of what it said in his police file as he sat beside Helen who was too far gone to notice if the sun had stopped shining or the world had stopped spinning. She loved this chapter, she almost knew it by heart.

"Bookworm"

He was trying to coax out a reaction. 

He fidgeted on the bench. 

He threw back his head of dark voluptuous hair. 

Stretched out his legs into the walkway then his arm behind her back, she never did a thing, except when the two women three benches up started to giggle, then laugh. 

Cheeky Bookworm had lifted her head. 

Turned the page and took a surreptitious glance at the couple which had Phillip's toes curling in his brand new Converse.

He wouldn't mind that look directed at him once in a while as he tried to light up a crumpled blunt from his jacket pocket.

"You ignoring me, you do realise the more you ignore me the closer I get?"

"Humpft - A Smiths fan."

Oh so it did speak!

"Who's Smith?" Blowing out sickly sweet smoke.

"Humpft" A heavy sigh returned to her book.

"Wanna go for a drink?"

"Have one"

"A stronger one?"

"No"

"No Thanks you mean?"

"Fuck off Altman."

Now that was hardly a turn away now was it? He'd fought off bigger attitudes than hers and won out eventually, just one or two more moves and Pretty Bookworm would be in his car and begging for his dick in her pussy.

Meow purty puddy tat!

"I'll be magnanamous and let you fuck me first" He threw the blunt away, the weed was too damp.

"Smooth"

"Or rough and hard, makes the difference to me babe" 

Oh now see there's the magic word, every woman wants to be called Babe or Baby or even Baby Doll, according to his misguided education it's what got women off.

"Altman"

"Yes Baby?"

"See this?" Helen held out her book, she'd closed the cover, Phillip could see it looked old, almost falling apart, the pages yellowed from sun damage, rings of tea cups on the cover.

"I do babydoll"

"Now watch, pay attention big boy because you won't see me do this again, are you sure you're ready, I can get pretty rough?" 

Boy was he ready, this sexy, husky voiced cheeky British bitch had a book kink, this was new.

"Do it babe"

_ "Okayyyyy" _

The hand held back, the arm brought around in an arc so fast he didn't have time to react. 

The book hit him hard under the jaw sending him; 

Flying.

Backwards.

The bench overturned. 

Helen had gotten up just in time as he rolled into the wet grass. Her bottle of pop in her other hand she took a satisfied gulp and returned the now bruised and torn book to her bag which had sat, safe, on the floor.

"What the fuck you do that for you mad bitch?" He spoke through a split lip and bruised nose, spitting blood from out his mouth.

"Power of the written word moron" 

Cheeky Bitch Bookworm left him sprawled out on the grass, she walked towards the couple three benches down who'd turned to look after the incident, a word or two passed between and the three were all laughing.

At him

Again.

===============

October 

A Thursday

Just before Lunchtime.

"Well Helen we'll be glad to see you on Monday bright and early, no no no, no need we have a casual policy here, just no excessive flesh on show. We're pleased to have you on board"

The chap in the bruised second hand suit stood from the chair and stretched out his hand in welcome. 

Helen was still shaking from nerves.

"Thanks Mr Deets, I'm buzzing like a killer bee!"

"Hmm a fellow Cure fan... we're gonna get on like a house on fire!"

"Hope so... see you Monday!"

"I don't care if it's blue!" He laughed at the joke as Helen threw a bashful smile to his hungry eyes.

"Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too!"

Mr Deets had liked Helen as soon as she wobbled nervously through the door.

One job in the bag honey bunch, one wonderful recommendation from Zoe's new squeeze who had moved in two weeks ago when Janine moved out. 

Consuela, a great lady, a fellow bookworm but not a gardener, thank heavens. Helen didn't think she could allow another to touch her pride and joy, even though it now started to look untidy as Autumn gave in to Winter.

Periodicals, Journals and Art Section in the bag you great wonderful! 

Nothing could turn her day sour.

Except one thing

And he was waiting on the corner by the ice-cream parlour.

"Hey Bookworm"

Oh for the love of Mike just forget it man, hey hang on where's the car?

"Fuck off Altman"

"Cut me deep with your words."

"As deep as Doyle?"

"T'was but a scratch."

"Yeah well that's not what the DMV said now was it?"

"Wow, I get more than a one word response from you today babydoll, it's only taken me five months, mark it my journal, today, lunchtime, Bookworm lowered herself to talk to me."

"Fuck off Altman"

Walking past the gelateria the smell of freshly made Almond Glace had Helen's mouth watering, instinctively she turned to look in the window. Yes, she deserved a treat for doing well today. 

Just one scoop and a waffle straw, that couldn't hurt could it?

Phillip followed her in, as close as he could as a group of school kids bustled past, knocking him out of the way, his back to the freezer held up his arms to let the kids go. Helen was already speaking her order.

"Make that two" 

"Altman, Piss off"

"Only if you'll let me piss in your mouth first."

Arseole, he wouldn't be put off by any foul language, he seemed impervious to violence, and she didn't want to do that again. Her arm had ached for days afterwards, as well as her head which had worried about him pressing charges, a possible spell inside for her suspended assault conviction.

She hated this, and on the day she got a dream job at the library too.

Bastard.

She ordered a three scoop sundae and cried silent tears into her doritos when she got home.

===============

Round Three

So abuse hadn't worked, his cheeky, wonderfully sexy (and copyrighted) smile had been totally ignored, he tried being forward and all she'd done was hit him backward, hard. 

Very hard.

And that had his mouth watering, not only from a split lip.

But with lust.

She was a real purty fiesty one, his toes were curling in his socks, his head on fire and I don't mean the one on his shoulders.

So maybe the silent treatment?

He had no will power for that, anyway she'd probably prefer it if he left her alone.

Frigid?

Well not according to Mommy Dearest, he'd confided in her, at last, after a month of sulking and one night stands had her washing his sweaty, lady cum stained sheets again.

"Phillip Altman get your sorry ass in here"

Mummy Dearest was not happy.

"Mommy?"

"Don't even Phillip... what is wrong with you?"

"With me?"

"How many is that this month?"

"Many wah?"

"You need me to spell it out for you honey?"

"Maybe"

"Will you shit on their doorsteps for a change baby, you're costing me a fortune in laundry detergent."

"Yes Mommy"

God almighty who called their mother Mommy? 

Grow up Altman. 

Or grow a pair for fucks sake. 

You think in that addled vain brain of yours that big sis will forgive you for running into her husband's Mercedes and righting it and your Porsche off? You think big bro, the total square will give you your job back at the store after what happened to that consignment of ice hockey sticks when it was re-routed to Cleveland last week?

You're a fuck up.

Monumental.

Total and utter fuck up, all you can do is cum and not always on cue. It won't last, the women will tire of you, you're gonna get old and like 'Alfie' you will outlive your usefulness, to be thrown aside in favour of a younger model.

Time to face facts.

You're a screw up.

So let's go screw.

And who looks the weakest?

Oh I know who.

===============

Zoe and Consuela's Six Month anniversary, spent in a very sweet little restaurant on the high street, candles in bottles, spanish guitar music on the speakers, and none of the crockery matched.

Helen had been invited on this cliche but declined.

"Come on Connie, you two want to be together, I'm not tagging along as gooseberry"

"Gooseberry?"

"An English Colloquialism... means 'Third Wheel"

"Not at all, come on you were there at the start, so you're coming no argument, get on yer glad rags sweetie pie."

"I've nothing..."

"You say 'that fits' and I'm never speaking to you again" Zoe sat on Helen's chair arm, knocking her copy of Jules Verne's 'Journey to The Centre of The Earth' to the ground.

"I haven't"

"So what's the little yellow and green Lemon printed dress for then, sleeping in?"

Helen had seen it in Walmart, tried it on, it fitted and she'd cried as she looked at herself in the changing room mirror. 

She felt so pretty.

The dress clung where it needed to, draped where it ought to and complimented her tanned skin, an early blast of Spring warm weather, a job spent 90% on her feet, a garden to clear up after the winter and she felt fit, well and happier than she had been for years.

"Then may I go dutch?"

"English Interpreter needed stat!" Consuela laughed into her tea cup, an English custom she'd been introduced to and liked. 

Consuela liked Helen, Consuela loved Zoe, Helen loved them both.

And Zoe was in heaven.

Till Satan decided to crash the party.

They were on the dessert course. 

Consuela and Helen had chosen ice-cream. Zoe was torn between Key Lime and Chocolate Torte, decided on both as Consuela changed her order.

So the Three Horseman shared the feast.

_ And the beast looked on with a covetous eye at three happy little piggies in the half light, they'd built their home out of straw, he would come and blow their house down. _

"Seen asshole over at the bar?"

Zoe pointed discreetly at a sorry looking figure who was nursing a half empty draft Coors, a shot glass by his right hand.

"He's been stood up"

"How'd you know that?"

"Was here when we arrived, I gave him the look, yes hello Phillip how are you Phillip, you looking for trouble Phillip cos there's three of us Phillip and one of us has just come to the end of her suspended and has a mean right hook, so fuck off Phillip"

"Cor all that with one look eh Connie?" 

Helen was giggling.

"She can say a lot with one look can't you honey?"

Consuela coughed into her napkin as Zoe tickled her under the table. Helen beamed at the two of them, so happy, so lovely. 

So right for each other.

Not envious. 

No not ever they were her friends, she worked with them both now after her promotion. Mr Deets had it in mind for an educated, intelligent woman like Helen who showed enthusiasm, helped other students with their work, and stayed after hours to finish up for the next shift.

Mr Deets liked Helen a lot.

Mr Deets was married with three kids.

Mr Deets day dreamed.

Mr Altman did not.

"So how's Art and Sculpture's new section coming on?"

"Oh come on we promised no shop talk tonight"

"We did?"

"Yep"

"Okey dokey... oh no... heads up here comes trouble"

"Ladies good evening"

"Fuck off Altman" Helen's default line whenever he accosted her, she was almost bored with his frequent clumsy attempts at flirting. 

He had absolutely no idea.

"Celebrating?"

"You deaf?"

Phillip looked taken a back as all three women said the two words at the same time. 

Once upon a time he'd have laughed and tried to take on all three at once, except one of these had already drawn his blood, the other he knew from school, and the third looked as if she was calling over the manager.

"Sorry to disturb you"

What the hell was he doing?

Seriously was he walking away from these three beauties? 

Was he going soft in his old age?

Not growing up surely, not growing a pair, not being respectful or thoughtful.

Polite?

Mr P Altman Esq bachelor of this parish, would remain one if he wasn't going to be a good boy.

But he didn't want to be a good boy. 

He wanted the beauty in the Lemon dress up against a wall with her panties around his wrist, screaming 'Phillip' over and over till his head swam with the sounds he was dragging from her soul with his dick.

He wanted the goddess in the Lemon dress entwined in his arms, stroking his hair as he held her so tight to squeeze till she begged for air, then throwing her over the restaurant table, hitching up her dress and taking her roughly from behind.

He wanted and didn't get.

So he'd have to use his hand.

Again.

Trouble is it didn't work this time.

So he made up his mind and called his doctor.

Oh the shame.

===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be illegal.
> 
> Having this much fun on your own writing, seriously!
> 
> Hope you are enjoying this as much as I am.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War Continues
> 
> This time Helen finds a new weapon!

  
  


"Phillip thanks for coming in, so what seems to be the problem?"

The doctor, a friend of Mommy Dearest had seen it all, especially from the Altman family. So when Phillip came in that Tuesday afternoon wanting to talk about his concerns over Erectile Dysfunction he wasn't at all surprised.

In fact he never even blinked.

The guy had probably strained a groinal muscle if what his secretary told him was true. And yes I know The Healthcare Profession is supposed to be discreet and not discuss patients. 

Do you know someone who doesn't like to gossip when the family Fuck Up decides he's had enough easy sweet pussy to last a lifetime?

Does the world stop spinning because you want it to?

Phillip had to stand up, cough hard, as someone who wasn't Helen, cupped his balls and scrutinized his scrotum.

Shame had nothing to do with it in this claustrophobic clinical room. 

Once upon a time he'd dated (briefly) a nurse who only got turned on when he was dressed in scrubs and carried a stethoscope. 

She also insisted on getting on top.

Kinky but hardly groundbreaking stuff.

He bored of her after a month.

Helen was on almost one year and counting, and he hadn't even kissed her.

Cheeky Sexy Bookworm. 

"Cough again Phillip"

===============

"Oh my baby are you alright?"

Mommy dearest course he is.

He's a 31 year old child and you still call him baby? Do us all a favour, do yourself one and kick his ass out the house.

Which she did a month later after finding one of her next door neighbours' daughters skulking out the house at 3am, disappointed at her son's prowess and ready to spread the word to the streets.

Erectile Disfunction my arse. 

Phillip was mad deep in crazy and couldn't get it up without something to remind him.

Of Helen.

He'd even tried 'Original Source Lemon' shower gel.

Aww poor baby.

===============

Helen had allowed Consuela and Zoe to help out in the garden. 

Only mowing the lawn

A bit of weeding.

She'd been so busy at the library with the student influx that the garden was looking a little forlorn and unloved.

The two ladies hid when Helen got home from work, tired and dusty. 

They pounced and ushered her shocked and panting into the back garden, handed her a very tall glass of cider with barbecued hot dog and sat the quivering wreck down on the chair they'd bought and painted in bright colours for her. 

In memory of a meeting of two loving ladies and the beginning of Mr Altman's unwanted attentions which had (to Helen's surprise) dwindled of late.

"How'd you know?"

"I looked it up at work" 

Zoe could have gotten into a lot of trouble.

"Naughty... thanks this is all so nice."

"You start crying and we'll all have to"

As it got dark the new solar lights they'd quickly put up shimmered multicoloured from behind her roses, clematis and chocolate vine, the air was clear and fragrant, the music her favourite.

She felt like she was back home in England as Mr Scruff began 'Music Takes Me Up'.

===============

Ah a day off.

The day after a dream and Helen needed it after a few too many ciders, a dodgy burrito and a lot of unexpected excitement had given her a bostin headache.

Like she cared. 

She was so happy. 

So happy as she sat on her multicoloured chair in the garden. 

Still in her pajama's eating breakfast, a cup of tea in one hand, her long suffering, water damaged, greasy copy of M.R. James 'Collected Ghost Stories of an Antiquary' in the other.

Feeling very incongruous on such a beautiful warm sunny May morning as Mrs Anstruther gave her gardener, Collins, instructions to remove the post in the Rose Garden, Helen jumped as a rude shout cut through 'Heatwave' by Jazzanova.

"Hey Bookworm"

Oh no.

Not today.

Please? 

Deciding to ignore it, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset. 

No way no how.

"Good Morning Cheeky Bookworm"

Now that was incongruous, a pleasant polite word, she was ready to turn and swear, sex and travel to you too mate! 

She turned the page as Mrs Anstruther had her garden turned into the scene of a Witch Trial, a dark, hairy, tall black shape prowling the high hedges and neatly trimmed lawns, trying to get into the house to overpower the inhabitants.

"I heard your news, Happy Birthday for yesterday Bookworm"

"What the fuck Altman?"

Oh dear, resolution broken. Helen had turned to see his stupid face above the fence line, grinning now from ear to ear.

"I said Happy Birthday, brought you something"

If it was what she thought it was, she'd have the garden shears out of her shed quick as a flash and cut his knob off with a satisfying snap. 

He was cut already, she'd just be finishing the Rabbi's half finished job.

"It's here... hang on"

He disappeared behind the fence, then a bunch of flowers appeared as if by magic, followed by a card.

"Altman this isn't funny"

"Course not, my Pretty Pajama wearing Birthday Bookworm... come on open this" He was jumping up and down on the opposite side, the flowers taking the brunt of his bounce.

Flicking the card to the ground it landed in Consuela's new planter of pansies. She picked it up and was about to throw it in the trash.

"Oh no don't do that please, there's a little something inside for you."

Did he sound put out? 

Distressed?

"If it's ribbed then you can go fuck yourself Altman."

He disappeared, throwing the flowers over the fence as he did. Helen heard him padding down the driveway, muttering under his breath.

She picked up the bouquet, poor things looked bruised, she couldn't be mean to flowers after all, and they were her favourite.

Yellow roses.

And the card contained a $50 book token.

Oh dear Mr Altman had it bad.

Helen didn't care.

She spent her token on a copy of 'Blooming Flowers' by Kasha Boddy, and kept his card as a bookmark.

===============

Summer's here and the time is right, for dancing in the street.

Phillip walked past the park, hands in pockets kicking at any litter he could find. He was out of work, again. His new apartment, a shit hole, Mommy Dearest did everything for him. 

But not any more.

Seemed no one wanted him now.

So he went to his brother's store to piss him off.

Even that backfired. 

Paul Altman was happy to see Phillip, even spoke about a possible new position doing advertising for the new line in Archery equipment he'd sourced from Germany. Since he'd missed on the first wave of Hunger Games, he would be ready for the next movie re-run.

"Bro I've no idea how to shoot one of these"

"Well I'm not buying guns, that shit gives me the creeps."

"You can still kill with this you asshole"

Phillip held up a Compound, upside down without an arrow, pulling back on the string it twanged back sharply, drawing blood from his thumb.

"Oww"

"So you not interested then dickhead?"

"I could be... give me a week, I'll come up with something" 

Speaking past the thumb in his mouth.

And for once.

He came up with something.

Well well well.

===============

"Aww let's go try them out, I've always wanted a go"

"Just saying that if you think you'll look like Jeni Law then I'm going to laugh my arse off, the way she shoots I'm surprised she's not taken off her fingers, she couldn't hit the floor if she were standing on it, shooting from the lips, then the cheekbone, my arse!"

"Can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Do archery?"

"It's Toxophily"

"Oh get you"

"Come on you guys, this could be a giggle."

Strolling round 'Altman's Sports and General' one lazy Saturday afternoon, the Three Horsemen stood by the new display. Helen picked up a Recurve, tested the weight and began to stroke the polished wood handle.

"Pretty Bow... hello there"

"Is there somewhere we can try these out?"

"Yep over here look"

"Sorry ladies you'll need to be supervised if you want to try." The older brother had walked over, amused to see three women looking at the bows. 

Just right, his target market. 

Oh sorry pardon the pun!

Thanks Little Bro, your hard work's pulled in the custom!

"Do I stand here?" Zoe had pulled back longer woven and beaded dreads out of her face, held up the longbow she'd chosen inexpertly as Paul began to show her how to heft it, line up and shoot.

Helen had leant on the end of the Recurve, laughing silently as the blind lead the blind.

Zoe had an attempt at the boss, missing and hitting the black net curtain behind, standing back 20 yards in a corner of the huge store. Then as Consuela, a little shorter than Zoe stood sideways on, she clipped her fingers on the string, the bow was far too big for her as it sprang back and fell out of her hands.

"Not as easy as in the movies eh?"

Paul sounded so fucking condescending.

Phillip was watching on cctv, laughing his arse off, also taking the piss. 

He hadn't spotted Helen.

Not yet anyway.

Paul and Phillip were both about to.

"Would you care to try?"

"Who me?" 

Helen said coyly as she re-strung the bow, coming back to her as easy as riding a bike. Paul looked shocked as the tall, short haired blonde brushed him politely aside.

She put on the right hand finger and left arm guards.

She took up stance.

She picked an arrow.

Blue and green fletch, secured the knock on the string pointing it down to the floor. 

Balancing the arrow on the sight, adjusted it slightly.

Lifted and straightened her back making her look even taller as she brought the bow string back to the centre of her chin end of her nose, pulled her shoulder straight, lined up string with bow, straightened her left arm elbow.

Closed her right eye.

Pulled a little further.

And fired.

The bow swung down as her right arm pulled back.

She was happy she'd remembered how to do it as Zoe and Consuela whooped and hollered in the usually quiet shop.

"You got a bullseye first shot sweetie pie!"

Paul stood to the side, passed her another, slack jawed.

Helen was only just warming up.

Of course she drew a crowd now she had five blue and green sticking out in a neat grouping, smack bang in the gold. 

She showed her friends how to shoot with the Compound, Consuela even managed to hit the boss with the Longbow which had them all in hysterics as she celebrated with a three finger Katniss Everdeen Salute.

Paul sold six bows, a boss and a shed load of equipment that afternoon, but not to Helen or her friends, the spectators had the money. 

Helen didn't.

And Phillip watched.

And Phillip waited.

His hands deep in his pockets.

Open mouthed.

\---

**KNOCK KNOCK**

"UPS delivery Ma'am"

She would never get used to being called that, several time's she'd pulled up people for calling her that, she gave up eventually.

Ma'am was used for the Queen.

Not Helen.

"What you been ordering now honey?" 

Zoe baking in the kitchen, a Lemon Drizzle, Devil's Food and Red Velvet. There was a farmers market on in town this weekend and she was only getting started, they already had a Seed, a Fruit, an Orange and Chocolate, Cherry Coconut and Date and Walnut in the deep freeze in the garage.

Helen had made plans to kidnap the Date and Walnut.

The house smelt divine, she had to practically prize the cute delivery man off the porch. He'd left the most oddly shaped parcel, her name and address on it. She knew her Amazon order wasn't due till next week.

"What the hell, this a joke?"

The parcel wrestled into the house, Zoe emerging around the kitchen door frame.

"Anything interesting?"

"Well it doesn't tick or buzz, unless it's the world's biggest dildo I have no idea, I've not ordered anything like this"

As she unwrapped the Recurve, a set of arrows, finger and arm guard, rolled up target and a removable sight fell out of the package to the floor.

"Pretty bow hello again"

Helen stroked the wooden handle and began to assemble it.

"You bought one, I thought you said you were saving up?"

"I was, I haven't bought this..."

The bow was almost ready to fire, just the string to attach, Zoe picked up the finger and arm guards, passing them one by one to Helen who fitted one to her left arm, the velcro tearing as she adjusted the tension. 

She took it off when she realized she couldn't string the bow with it on.

"Hels who's sent you these, not that Paul guy surely?"

"Oh god I hope not" Helen stopped unfurling the target, began re-rolling and replaced it in it's tube.

"Maybe you should return it?"

"I shall... my poor pretty bow... goodbye."

===============

"No I've not sent you anything ma'am you sure it's from this store?"

So Helen felt like a right prize chump now, she held out the parcel to Paul as if the thing would turn around and bite her on the arse.

"Well I've not ordered it and I would like to return it, this is definitely the bow I saw on your display. If it's been stolen then please, have it back."

Leaving it and it's equipment on his office desk, Paul Altman watched the young lady as she exited the store.

"PHILLIP!"

===============

What was he supposed to do now?

Abuse no.

Flattery definitely not.

He tried the silent for a whole fuckin month and yes, she had preferred it.

Damn she just wasn't into him.

And that to a vain man like Phillip Altman stung, far too used to getting his own way, far too familiar with a woman falling for his far too obvious charms and spreading her legs far too wide.

Except he didn't much care for the easy ones anymore.

Difficult were interesting. 

Difficult were challenging and yes he had read 'Les Liaisons Dangereuse' at college, finding that Madame de Tourvel was a whiny annoying bitch who could never make up her mind. 

At least The Marquise de Merteuil knew what she wanted and got it.

And he was Valmont, vain, ignorant of his love and totally unable to understand why his actions caused so much pain.

To himself and to her.

None of them won the game in the end.

See he thought perhaps if he sent Helen what she liked, she might want him enough to at least let him talk to her, maybe even touch her. 

God he wanted to touch Helen, to taste, to take, to devour and spit out to do it over and over again and again.

And again.

Mommy Dearest did she have the answer?

She did but he didn't like it one little bit.

"Phillip honey, she doesn't like you, yes I know, why not indeed, cos you're so dashing so handsome, friendly generous funny, you've a dick your father would be proud of, yes I'm your mommy I've changed more diapers than you've fucked girls, but sorry honey buns, some women just don't understand you like I do. Better get used to it, only gets harder when you're older baby."

So much for the parental ego boost as she proudly showed him her second boob job of the year.

Back to work.

He kept the bow and arrows at his apartment, Helen had even returned his note, the one he'd thought himself so clever to have written, hidden in the rolled up target.

_ My Beautiful Bookworm... you've shot me though the heart... _

_ I want... _

She'd shot him through the heart.

Dear god Phillip was a slushy sweet sickly mess.

What utter shite, total and utter shite.

She'd wounded him so deep with a copy of 'The Lost World.'

I'm sniggering.

He's such a liar.

Vain.

Superficial.

Self obsessed.

Shot through the heart, he doesn't even have one.

His wound was invisible except to his mother, and now, to a certain extent, his elder brother who had laughed at his explanation of the bow, smiled spitefully to see his baby brother embarrassed, shy and unable to explain how he really felt.

So try again with another girl Phil you imbecile. 

Paul would have suggested if he'd known.

Maybe this time you'll hit the jackpot and get what you want if you even know what that is anymore you thoughtless asshole.

Maybe she'll stick around for the morning?

Doubtful

Highly improbable. 

Ha Ha Ha

===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me reader - I hope you are enjoying this!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Helen is starting to see the attractions in Mr Altman
> 
> And Mr Altman begins his education.

  
  


"Hey Miss... have you a copy of 'Geophysical Letters' April 2015?"

"It's on this stack here."

Helen was pushing her trolley, a bumper crop of journals standing to attention, the end of term, holiday season approaching and a sudden influx of borrowed requests as the exams loomed.

Busy Busy Busy

Rush Rush Panic 

Paranoia

Not thinking about her Recurve bow, not thinking about how Altman's daily 'meet and greets' had stopped abruptly.

Not thinking about how her day had diminished somewhat.

Not thinking of that cheeky sexy grin of his under a well trimmed, moustached goatee.

Not thinking of his soft lips, or hair finger combed.

Didn't see herself pulling 'Economic Geology Mississippi Valley Type Special Issue II' instead of the requested 'Journal of Antarctic Geology' from the shelf.

Like Altman could be a distraction.

Had she left her vibrator on charge?

God she hoped so.

Buzzzzzzzzzz

===============

'Blooming Flowers' sat on the chair arm.

Helen gazing at the cars driving up and down the street, fanning herself with her birthday card, now in the heat of full summer she could do with some air conditioning.

Zoe and Consuela were visiting relatives in Haiti, spreading the news about a certain special event they planned for Christmas.

And Helen was to be their bridesmaid.

How cloyingly sweet.

The new vibrator was still wet and balanced on the end of her shaking finger.

===============

"Hey Helen, fancy coming round to me and Mrs Deets for Sunday lunch?"

That was kind, she thanked him and made her excuses. 

He could see she was sad. 

He wondered why. 

The students had returned for the autumn semester, Helen looked like she'd dropped a few pounds, again.

Except now she looked drawn.

Skin poor and sallow. 

Not herself at all.

"You sure, she does a great roast?"

"It's nice of you to offer, sorry Mr Deets, thank her for me though?"

"Sure... change your mind offer's still open"

She'd seen Altman around campus again a week ago, talking to the freshman, standing leaning up behind one in a low cut top and tight jeans. Reminding her of Janine who'd moved back to Baltimore last May.

She needed him hanging around like she needed a hole in the head.

Yet there he was.

Books under his arm, looking around the library foyer like he'd never set foot inside one in his life. Helen had hidden in the Greek Philosophy stacks.

A safe place to hide from anyone.

Especially as he looked so damn gorgeous, handsome and fuckable nowadays.

Damn him, damn him to hell.

"Sorry could you show me the way to English Lit?"

Oh shit.

"Up the stairs take a right, follow your nose till the end of the corridor take a left you'll have the section on your right."

Mr Deets.

Helen's Knight in Shiny Drip Dry.

===============

"What the hell's he doing skulking about in English Lit?"

"Zoe what we gonna do?"

"What do you mean we're gonna do? Last time I checked it was a free country nothing we can do, he has a card I checked, issued at the beginning of term, he's enrolled"

"Oh come on, is he on some kind of kick to bed the whole of the freshman year?"

"That's a bit bitchy."

"Bitchy?"

Helen sounded incredulous as Zoe finished her sandwich sitting in the park, surrounded by loosening yellow Autumn leaves.

"What's your problem, you moan when he talks to you, you complain when he leaves you alone, now you're on again, make up your mind" 

Brushing crumbs from her thighs.

"My mind?"

"Yep, see I've heard that you've been seen following him around, and I tell you now girlfriend, you keep this up and you'll get a reputation all your own. Leave dude alone, all he wants to do is finish college, anyway I heard he can't get it up anymore, so you were right after all."

Helen shoved her sandwich in her gob.

And shut up.

===============

Exclusive Information.

Phillip Altman has a love of Edwardian Gothic Horror.

Who would have thought it?

===============

Sitting in one of the large armchairs in the corner of the Greek Philosophy Section (the only place he could get away from the freshman girls) he'd made his way through; 

Mary Shellley 

Bram Stoker 

Sheridan Le Fanu 

And had just begun on the thick pile of M.R. James short stories he'd watched Helen reading in her sleep suit, covered in multicoloured stars.

Helen looked so happy that day till he'd spoilt it for her.

He hadn't meant to, all he wanted to do was make Helen smile, everyone should smile on a birthday. 

Especially Helen who looked so beautiful when she smiled. 

It was never directed at him though. All she'd done was sneer at him, chucked his card in the trash, where it belonged.

Along with the yellow roses Mommy Dearest said meant 'Remembrance', what a message to send to Helen. 

Yes my gorgeous Bookworm;

Remember all those times I shot some snappy smart snide cruel comment at you for a cheap laugh?

Remember how I leered at you when we met by accident in Walmart as you bought ice-cream cake and potato chips? 

You think you could ever forgive me for spoiling the day you got your job at the place I'm sitting comfortable and warm in now?

Could I be forgiven, then would you let me kiss you?

Nope.

He'd seen her in the stacks. 

Followed her down to periodicals once or twice, toying with the idea of trapping her between 'Economic Geology' and 'Earth And Planetary Science Letters' till she yelped and begged him to release her. Except these new motorised things wouldn't let you do that anymore.

Who'd taken all the fun out of school?

So he sat sulking in Greek for a week, trying to get his head around Victorian and Edwardian Gothic literature. No use for a job, but he did enjoy reading and studying it. 

Ah

There's a brilliant idea!

===============

"Helen would you pop up to History and put the Industrial Revolution back together again, some drunk idiot's just fallen asleep in there, thanks honey"

Zoe had her promotion, and boy did she like being bossy, it made her look so cute!

Helen ran happily up the stairs two by two, three stories up at the back next to Local History, the whole bookshelf had been torn down. This was going to take her all afternoon.

She wasn't out of breath.

Stacking the books in piles on the study tables, trying to preserve some of the number ordering (which was almost impossible) she began the task, reaching up to the top shelf with ease.

Didn't need a stool.

Didn't see him. 

Didn't feel him.

At home that night covered in book dust and smelling of polish she pulled off her jeans, checking the pockets for tissues and change before putting them in the wash basket, found a yellow post-it, folded in her hand.

"Where'd you come from?"

Unfolding it read;

_ Helen Tradescant - Born May 30th 1989 - Three weeks were allowed _

What the hell?

Sitting on the end of the bed in her underwear, a scented candle burning on the shelf wondering why someone had thought of doing this, and why she hadn't felt it enter her back jeans pocket.

Not funny, not amusing, not intriguing, not at all.

But it was familiar.

Why was she thinking of M.R. James?

===============

And the same again the next day, this time it was the back pocket of her black dungarees.

_ Helen Tradescant - met me August 2019 - Three weeks were allowed _

Now she was worried. 

She hadn't been past the front desk today, except when she stood by the vending machine, trying to help a student retrieve their Twix which had gotten stuck between the springs.

This was just a saga now.

White letters on a blue background on her next shift after the weekend.

_ Helen Tradescant - started at the Library 2020 - Two weeks were allowed. _

Okay so someone was on a countdown.

Should she report this to her supervisor? 

It didn't look threatening, in fact it felt quite exciting, this time she'd mapped her travel through the library, ready to confront the mad fool who'd popped the paper into a book she was taking out as a student requested volume of 'The Oresteia' from Greek Plays and Literature, it stuck out the top like a bookmark.

A bookmark.

===============

"What do you mean he's stalking you now?"

"He is... look at all these"

Helen laid them all on the kitchen table, five now, all slightly different, and all in Phillip Altman's handwriting. She'd checked against his birthday card, and that had Zoe asking a whole shit tonne of questions.

Now she knew who, she knew why.

Now she knew why, she knew how.

Now she knew how she could stop this foolishness, nip it in the bud. 

All she had to do was to 'Re-cast the Runes.'

And two could play 'Mr Carswell's Game'

===============

"The Abbot of Lufford"

A nickname his neighbours gave him after entertaining the children of the parish and giving them nightmares for the rest of their lives.

Mr Carswell was an astute man, clever, underhand and thoroughly evil.

Mr Altman was an astute man, clever, underhand and a total babe for this. Helen hadn't felt this desired in years. 

He'd felt roguish as he'd stood behind her so close, fighting his instinct to throw her up against The Industrial Revolution to tear into her, deep, fast and angry. Her Lemon Verbena perfume in his nose, he had a chance to take in one huge chestful as she turned to retrieve a book off the floor, in a world of her own again.

Bending before him, it was a shaking hand which had slipped in the first post-it note to that wonderfully warm back pocket.

He made love to her that night in his dreams as books fell like rain from the shelves.

Yeah Yeah Yeah Enemies to Lovers.

Kiss my arse.

===============

Phillip had fallen asleep, feet on the study table, the women opposite him in the Law Library were giggling as he snored gently.

"Do we wake up The Beast?" One said to the other.

"Yep, hey Pip... wakey wakey rise and shineeeeee"

She jogged his elbow, head falling to his chest he snapped awake, legs kicked out in shock knocking his books to the floor. 

He was not happy at being woken. 

But this was the first time in weeks he'd had a woman approach him for anything, he grinned as the sweet Asian beauty with the most hauntingly dark eyes handed him a bunch of study notes.

"Sorry Pip, I think these belong to you"

"Thanks sweetness, they do"

As the two women giggled out of the law and into the disorder, Phillip (or Pip) as the whole Freshman year had christened him, shoved the papers into his record bag and shuffled sleepily out into Autumn rain.

Oh now see he really regretted writing off Tracy's Porsche last year, although the look on his brother in law's face had been so totally worth it. Phillip the knucklehead, hated him for making his sister unhappy that Thanksgiving. Dude never got off the damn phone to his brokerage.

What an asshole.

Standing at the bus stop with the other poor students, shivering in the cold he looked, well Helen thought, he looked gorgeous, vulnerable and so very very fuckable.

In that order.

Wet hair, oh god she wanted to see his everything wet.

Helen would warm him up, lusty aching arms and legs sat snug in her little runaround, the window wipers clearing her sight of moisture as she started it up. 

Would she offer a lift?

Nope.

Except she turned around two streets away, drove back and parked up. Bus was late, it always was the day before the weekend.

The last note she'd received said:

_ Helen Tradescant - Beauty and Intellect combined - Two Weeks Were Allowed _

Found in the pocket of her jacket as she searched for a tissue to wipe her snotty nose.

So yeah let him stand in the rain, get wet, catch a cold.

Tremble ever so nicely, watching how he seemed to glow, sparkle.

"Oi... Altman"

Oh shit there she goes.

He was searching for the cause, found it sitting in a beaten up red run-around he wouldn't be seen dead in.

"Oi you deaf?"

Cheeky bookworm, next note she was gonna get would cut the countdown by 7 days. 

He padded over to the car, bent down to speak from the passenger side.

"Getting wet Altman?"

"No, I always shower fully dressed, you offering?"

"A lift, kidding me right, you'll drip inside my expensive leather interior"

Shaking the rain from his hair opened the door and squelched into the seat.

"So Tradescant, more abusive taunts or are you out of 'Fuck Off's' for the day?"

"Number of fucks left to give is now at zero." 

Helen had pulled out the parking lot and into evening traffic, Phillip put on his belt and settled down for the journey, where?

"Where you going Tradescant?"

"Where would you like to go Altman?"

He daren't say, damn was he blushing or was it the car heater?

"Home"

"Which is still with Mommy?"

Was that a sarcastic taunt?

Fraid so Pip, how utterly ridiculous, he sounded like a Dickensian character.

"Bishop Street between Johnson and Burkett."

Helen turned the car around, if he'd said her address she would have driven him there tonight. An opportunity he never knew he'd had.

He smelt like wet dog.

She smelt of floor polish.

The drive was noisy. 

Phillip drowning in the sounds of her Dance music, he'd asked, no, he'd shouted after the artist only to be polite, he'd never heard of Hidden Orchestra.

He made a note to ask Spotify.

Pulling up on Bishop Street between Johnson and Burkett he turned to take off his belt and thank her for the lift.

"Now fuck off Altman"

"Fuck you too Tradescant"

She left him at the door to his apartment, soaking wet, warmer and extremely horny.

He dreamt of her again that night.

Helen was lightly dressed in clingy, revealing yellow, bare legs running away from him under the dripping, rain soaked Lemon trees, making out then making love in the long grass, the evidence all over his sheets. 

A copy of H.Rider Haggard's 'She' on the end of the bed, into which he stored the note he'd found;

_ Phillip Altman - Born at Satan's behest - Two Days Were Allowed _

Oh shit

She knew the game.

And wanted to play.

===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm reliably informed that people are following this story.
> 
> Now I know I am pleased, and relieved.
> 
> I hope you are enjoying it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karswell's game continues, but things aren't going to quite to Phillips plan after all!

Helen had toyed with giving him a week. 

But knew she couldn't be quite so sly as he was. 

She only had the thought to give the note to one of Zoe's friends who was studying Law at the last minute, she even told her what to say. 

Wai Yee had giggled, got the reference and jumped at putting one over the tallest man she'd ever seen.

Two days to get so close to him.

Two more notes to try to pass to him.

And she'd have him

She'd have him; 

Humiliated.

At her feet and lapping her up.

Every 

Last 

Drop.

===============

Okay so he's in Greek again, as usual, sitting with Arthur Conan Doyle's 'Tales of Unease' in his hand. Damn him to hell he was smiling, rubbing slow circles into the flesh at the back of his neck.

Wide awake, his record bag hung on the back of the chair.

No chance.

Not yet.

Would Zoe perhaps pass it to him, could she ask her friend who was, by now, really tired of her bullshit?

A chance would offer itself, she hoped, holding her thighs together, trying hard not to think of those rubbing fingers and hand between her legs, drifting off into a haze of Greek Philosophers and their advice to young male scholars.

Damn Phillip was so fine.

Damn Phillip was so handsome.

But he couldn't get it up anymore the younger girls gossiped.

Helen wanted to put that rumour to the test.

Vigorously.

===============

Pip;

My god do we have to use that juvenile nickname?

Looked over the top of his book and smirked.

How could the pursuit of such an average, tall, shapely, stroppy English woman be so fucking exciting?

He knew he'd have to give her a chance to slip a note, but not yet eh?

Lets ramp up the tension. 

Make her work for it. 

Like he'd had to do. 

For her. 

Cheeky Lusty Bookworm was hiding behind Aristotle again. He could see her blue shoes peeking out from behind the case. God he loved this, far too much as his semi wriggled in his jeans.

Helen was ordinary and extraordinary.

He'd dated a librarian when he was at college the first time, one pregnancy scare later and he never left home without a johnny in his back pocket.

Bit like old ladies and umbrellas.

Well maybe not quite the same but you get the picture.

Helen had gone, he felt the sting of longing, shifted position in his chair and started on the next story.

_ 'Playing with Fire' _

===============

"See ya tonight honey"

Zoe was half out the office door as Helen decided to ask for her help.

"Will you...?" 

It wasn't any use after all. 

This was so stupid.

The second note crushed in her hand she hovered over the waste paper basket.

Open wide.

===============

"This weather's shit"

Phillip had thrown the book in his bag, full of notes, his phone, half an apple, a flyer for some party up town a girl had slipped him, considering on crashing, just for the mild dick titillation he'd get watching the sorority girls getting drunk.

No Note

Nothing else.

He checked his coat pockets.

Nothing.

He checked his jeans pockets.

Nothing.

Only the johnny in its home from home.

Shit Altman, now you're playing hard to get!

Worried if he could keep it hard anymore.

Worth one last try?

Then if not he was planning to take holy orders and retire in total seclusion with a band of Cistercian Monks to the Cascade Mountains and make honey and beeswax candles for the rest of his life.

Maybe plant a grove of Lemon trees.

American Idiot.

===============

Helen walked back to the front desk. 

A moment to collect thoughts which really she should have written into her latest A03 smut fic, she idly toyed with the pen on a chain, dancing it around the table top, snake like and hypnotic.

"Hey Tradescant"

"Oh hell what you want Altman?"

"Take this out... please"

Manners Phillip honey, said Mommy Dearest in his mind.

"Machine's over there" 

Helen pointed with the pen, almost yanking it out of its mooring.

"No wait"

Snatching the book back, she smiled to see it was a copy of Edith Nesbit 'The Power of Darkness - Tales of Terror', she passed back after scanning it as; 

'On Loan'

"So I'll fuck off then shall I Tradescant?"

"Be my guest"

Hiding a sneer that Phillip saw, memorized and crystallized he walked into the rain, squelching yellow fallen leaves under his boots. 

===============

Sitting slowly steaming on the bus he opened Edith wide as he could get her, out dropped a creased note. 

He teased it open his mouth watering.

_ Phillip Altman - Left Hand Path Tall Handsome Walker - One Day was allowed. _

Left Hand path?

He got out his phone and Googled it.

Some really weird shit came up.

A black magic Wikipedia page, Spiritualism and Satanic cults.

Okay so if Cheeky Sexy Bookworm had this kind of kink, it would trump the nurse and her scrubs by miles.

Shame he didn't realise Helen was referencing an old Hammer Horror film, Christopher Lee as a good guy for a change.

_ 'The Devil Rides Out' _

===============

This time the devil was wearing blue shoes.

Zoe and Consuela were arguing about bills, who'd run up the biggest playing online games, who'd been running the water in the shower for too long.

Trivial stuff, thank god, as Helen gazed in a happy horny haze smelling the cake Zoe had been baking. 

Coconut and Cherry.

She hardly noticed as the two bickering affianced ladies stopped their squabble and came to sit next to her on the sofa.

"Hazy daisy give me your answer do, I'm so crazy all for the love of you"

Consuela crooned into the delicious smelling air. Seems the argument wasn't going to be allowed to ruin Zoe's culinary creation.

__ "Sorry what?"

"Hels not in your chair? Who's the lucky guy knocking you off your perch, must be quite a dude to get you to pull out your 'coming to bed' eyes?"

"Phillip Altman"

The ladies began to squabble again, this time at Helen, who heard about, oh I'd say about three words out of every ten.

Maybe.

She'd not meant to say his name out loud, opening the front door had brought back some very pleasant vivid memories which she was planning on using later tonight.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Hels, quit yankin our chains, you're winding us both up aren't you babydoll?" Zoe nudged her by the shoulder, trying to shake the monkey down from the coconut tree.

"What the fuck's he done to get this reaction, Helen...  _ hey Helen...  _ come back to Earth honey, tell us this is you getting us back for last week?"

"Hmm... nah that's alright, I understood and I'll look fine in whatever you choose for me, no I'm okay, I've just got a bit, well..."

"You look like you've been hit by a truck"

"Don't Connie, she looks pretty, and flushed you sure you've not caught a cold, are you a bit delirious?" Zoe put her hand on Helen's temple, checked and normal, a little cold from the wind outside perhaps.

"I'll speak to the manager tomorrow, I can't have a staff member uncomfortable cause some student thinks he's god's gift to women."

Consuela was getting all worked up for all the right reasons.

But Helen's been all worked up ever since she heard Philip Altman fucking in the room next door, now let's get serious here. 

Playing hard to get and saying 'No' are two completely different things. The other person knows (or should) when the other isn't interested. They know when to back off, and instinct kicks in, they draw away and never think about asking them again.

Hard to get means yeah; 

They'll fold. 

Eventually. 

They fancy the arse off you and don't want to admit it to you;

Or themselves. 

They play hard to get because it's exciting, the anticipation of getting down and dirty between the sheets with you, up against a wall with you, ripping off your clothes to get to the sweet treats underneath, tasting, touching, teasing and devouring heart and mind; 

Whole.

Phillip didn't understand this. 

He took no notice of what a woman wanted, only what he needed and was getting at that precise moment.

Now Helen felt sad.

Now Helen felt sick to her stomach.

Disappointed that she would be, in essence, another notch on his bedpost. She'd get nothing from him except sexual stimulus and she got that from her vibrator much easier and satisfactorily.

What she wanted, craved and prayed for at 3am was someone who would hold her, cuddle and snuggle close, wrapping strong arms around her, stroking hair, kissing bare shoulders, tucking up tight in a blanket when she got cold. 

Talk and talk till the sun came up, warm her feet on his calves.

Be as tired as she was when they went to work.

Thinking, dreaming, fantasizing about each other all the live long, to sit back on the sofa and embrace as if they'd not seen each other for a hundred thousand million days.

Oh see that's what reading too much A03 fiction does to you.

It skews your expectations.

It educates you.

It amuses and makes you laugh.

It also shows that you're not the only one.

You're not alone.

Comforting and smutty, gentle and violent, caring and selfish.

All Helen kept thinking was how much time she'd wasted on Phillip, when she could have, at least, attempted it with someone else who wasn't known around town as a washed up, sexually frustrated, narcissistic mature student with an Oedipal complex.

Two Greek Tradgedies for the price of one.

Tracy had screamed that last bit out of her taxi door as she left him almost two years ago.

In front of his family and neighbours.

How humiliating.

He was an adult.

Well most of the time anyway.

===============

The Library was full.

Not unusual in term time you may think.

True.

But, and here's an unusual story.

The first three floors of the English Department had suffered a catastrophe. 

Like the end of 'The Mill on The Floss', a flood Tom and Maggie Tulliver would have run screaming from had swept away the offices, dragged and floated books and journals, coursework and essays, research and thesis applications down the stairs and out the door.

A faulty fire alarm over night, a lazy, overweight, bored security guard and the whole department in uproar.

"Poor books"

It was as if his dream had somehow manifested itself in real time. 

Phillip picked out a path through the puddles of Poe and Plath, splashed through streams of Sallinger and Steinbeck, rowed in rivers of Robbins and Reed, dived into a deluge of Dickens and Dickinson.

Retreating, with so many others to the safety of the Library, he had to fight back to the shores for a seat in Greek, he saw Helen.

He always saw Helen.

He watched out for Helen.

In among the chaos, a noisy library, full of students and, for a change, lecturers and tutors who were in constant states of confusion, panic, puzzlement and demanding the library staff cater to their every whim.

In essence they were busy little bees, busy little bees making honey from the dripping nectar of the books on the shelves.

Phillip heard one student laughing as their copy of 'Electra' by Sophocles was found to be translated into rhyme, how long that had sat on the shelves unlooked at was anyone's guess.

He tried to catch the Greek goddess's eye on several occasions.

Helen looked so cute in a tight black turtleneck sweater and baggy jeans, a little silver belt hugged the hips, a slight muffin top which he longed to bite into, pinch and make her giggle.

He'd only once before heard her giggle, and that had been at his expense.

Poor baby looked stressed though.

Phillip knew a very satisfying cure, he'd practiced it this morning, waking early in anticipation of the last day of his allowance.

Slipping out of the shower smelling of lemon, he just had time to conduct himself a quick solo symphony before the coffee pot finished.

He knew then.

Right then.

That he'd got it bad this time.

Because he imagined Helen was with him, watching him through the steamed up shower window, and he came so fast, he came so hard imagining her eyes catching him red handed (so to speak) and the image pumped serotonin to parts of him he'd thought he'd blocked off with concrete and cement.

His heart.

His mind.

Tracy and all her sanctimonious superior theories, she could go shove them up her aged, craggy, slim, pube shaved PhD ass.

It was a nice ass.

It had been a very nice ass.

For about half a year.

Why should he let a woman, a therapist, tell him what he already knew?

Helen knew what he was already, and if that thought didn't put paid to any hope of getting her into bed and under him, over him, surrounding him, then he was a fool.

Helen had standards.

Helen had been playing hard to get for almost two years.

The only words they ever traded were insults;

Innuendo

Slights

Slurs

Abuse.

He'd never been kind, except on her birthday and look how that panned out. Totally useless, pointless, denied, rebuffed.

She didn't even call him by his first name or that ridiculous nickname, that he was beginning to get used to, even growing to like.

She never looked at Pip or smiled at Pip.

Pip had leered. 

Pip had made a nuisance of himself.

Pip had thrown one over his thumb in his Porsche after watching her shopping alone in Walmart, this time for white utilitarian underwear.

On her body it would look just as pretty as any Victoria's Secret or Agent Provocateur basque. He was lucky the car park wasn't too full at that time of day.

He'd shouted her name, loud as he came.

So what she hadn't got much money, neither had he, except a posh Architectural Digest story book Shag Pad in town Mommy Dearest had paid for, a half in half out job with his elder brother. 

A record the DMV had framed and put in their 'Hall of Infamy'

What the hell would an intelligent. 

Judgemental. 

Snobby and pretty.

No strike that...

Beautiful young Englishwoman see...

In him?

Except what he saw in the Mens Rest Room of the library. 

A baggy jean wearing;

Leeringly tall washed up fuckboy. 

Who never gave a fuck; 

Never cared a fuck; 

Only wanted to fuck and damn the consequences to him or anybody else.

So he walked out of the library.

Right out.

Past the crowds.

Past the stone lions on the stone steps.

Past the well kept lawns and lakes of literature that once was his department.

He kept walking till he got to their lake and their bench in the park where she'd bowled him head over heels in love with her.

He sat with a lukewarm cardboard cup of coffee.

And wept.

===============

"Oi... Altman!"

He never moved a muscle except to cast a surreptitious glance at the couple making out over the other side of the lake under a giant fishing umbrella. 

"You deaf?"

Seems he was and also in a world of his own, but just like Alice he'd tried to believe in three impossible things before breakfast.

1, He was worth more than everyone thought

2, He wasn't lonely

3, Helen loved him as much as he loved her

He looked vulnerable, he looked needy, he looked so damn fine, Helen wanted to sit in his lap and lick his mouth.

"Well I'm sitting with you whether you like it or not"

She plonked herself down on the wet bench, stretched out her legs into the walkway and tilted her head to the overcast sky.

"The book you ordered came in this morning, I thought, as we were so busy, you'd not had chance to collect, we had three other students request this after they saw it pop up in the catalogue, I hope you appreciate how many lies I've had to weave for you Altman, I expect to be paid"

A kiss as payment, a nice, slow long luscious kiss from those soft pouty lips of his, she scooted a little closer, knowing her arse was now wet from the puddle of water on the bench.

A (shivering?) hand held out the copy of 'Strange Words' by Patrick Chamoiseau to him, as he didn't take it she patted him on the arm with it instead.

"Hit me with it then Tradescant"

Now that sounded bitter, Helen held her legs together and squeezed.

"Not unless you want me to Altman, you gonna take this or not, I hope it's the right one, it's all in French."

"It's the right one"

Phillip could speak French, fluently.

It got him into a fair few beds speaking unremarkable phrases like; 

'I would like to order the cafe creme in a tall glass' 

"Je voudrais commander la crème de café dans un grand verre"

Or; 

'May you direct me to the train station?'

"Pouvez-vous me diriger vers la gare?"

He'd gotten a lot of amusement from taking the piss out of ignorant easy girls who's panties dropped at the sound of him conjugating verbs. 

His insincere sarcastic jeering whispers in their ears had them screaming with lust.

No no no!

Phillip for god's sake does everything you do have to revolve around getting laid because if that's your sole motivation my lad you're not going to get anywhere with the goddess bookworm who's just deigned to sit by your side and actually talk to you!

I'm shouting at you now Phillip!

Seriously man.

_ ARE YOU DEAF? _

He took the book, shoved it in his bag.

"Like a fresh one Altman?"

Helen gestured to his cold half drunk paper cup.

"Nope"

"You sure you don't want anything stronger?"

"Nope"

Oh dear is this sulking, is this what happens when he doesn't get his own way, when someone out trumps his hand, outsmarts the smart ass? This wasn't any fun, it was humiliating for them both and Helen, frustrated and upset, got up from the bench and walked away. 

What else could she do?

She daren't touch him like she wanted to.

She daren't ask him what was wrong for fear her name would be in the reason he gave.

Her note would have to do. 

If he bothered to read the book.

If he bothered at all, in which case Helen could and would be there, she already was, had been all along. 

She'd enjoyed throwing just as much mud at him as he had at her.

Been just as rude, crass.

And thoughtless. 

Well perhaps he had the jump on her in that respect, now he tasted that bitter tang of regret and for Phillip Altman to regret anything was, unusual, to say the least.

Oh if Mommy Dearest could see him now.

Off on another book tour of Europe. 

Helen had scoffed to her friends that the English wouldn't find the book insightful at all. They are, were and always had been sexually repressed, they wrote the books on which hers was plagiarised from.

So Phillip had no fall back position.

He had to puzzle this out for himself, god damn it he needed sex like he needed air.

Oh for fucks sake Altman no you don't!

You're lonely like she is. 

You hate being on your own because you're scared of who you are. 

If you can't be happy on your own then how's Helen going to be able to help you?

Do you even want her help?

She's not going to be content to be a hole in a mattress, not like all the others, and they never stuck around for long did they Philip? 

Never put up with your bullshit.

Never picked up your pieces? 

They needed to put their own lives back together after you rail-roaded them into bed, or in your car, or up against a wall, or in a bus shelter once, an empty public toilet cubicle a few times, just for the thrills, just to show off that you had and you could.

Seriously Phillip Altman.

Helen Tradescant brings you a book of Creole Fairy Tales, stories of lust, magical love, jealousy, betrayal and hope then you ignore her.

Open it up to page 9

Get a surprise.

You don't deserve it.

===============

Page 9.

A pretty pink heart shaped post-it note;

_ Phillip Altman - Kissed me September 2020 - After One Day Was Allowed _

Oh dear

Oh dear 

Oh dear

===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are hotting up between our characters, I hope you guys are enjoying my writing!
> 
> Tata for now reader!  
> love morby


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys this one is a bit down in the mouth, but if you want to get what you want, you have to earn it, and there is a bit of mild-ish smut (kinda) at the end of this chapter. At last Helen is beginning to realize what power she has.
> 
> Phillip Altman needs to find out that it's not all fun and games, although he is gifted a very nice view at the end!
> 
> Reader, I am now starting to bring you in to the story, as an observer, almost like you're watching a film... well let me know if the technique I'm using is working, and what you think too!
> 
> Many thanks reader!!

He never opened that little book of Creole magic till a week after the 'English Literary Flood of 2020.'

Stupid man.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shiiiitttttt 

_ SHIT! _

===============

"See now she's crying again, the fridge is empty and all her books are off the shelves."

Zoe was worried, and when Zoe was worried Consuela was too.

And when Consuela saw the state of Helen a council of war was convened around the mighty kitchen table.

The Knights of Cryalot used strong words, they had brave hearts and good sense. The three of them had lots to say which made absolutely no difference at all.

"Then if you gave him permission, why didn't he come around? Still can't understand why you want that man anywhere near you to be honest."

"Well I don't, not now anyway."

"Thank fuck for that, can't we do normal for a change, it's like having Jan back here."

"Zoe that's unfair, and anyway I never even got to, what do you call it... 'First Base' is that the correct term?"

"It is, finally an Americanism from the Snooty Brit, but would you seriously, I mean would you really've let him kiss you?"

"I'd have let him do a whole lot more"

Bloody hell.

Would you really Helen?

Your friends seem a little judgemental of you lately, have you lowered your standards so much you would consider Phillip Altman in your bed to fuck, oh god forbid no. 

Not to make love to? 

Surely not that?

Ergh, the laundry afterwards doesn't bear thinking about.

Or the tears.

Come on, you've nothing to beat yourself up about, you got nowhere, you didn't encourage him, he did all the push push push, he hardly left you alone, for how long? 

Oh my god Helen, 

This has been going on for almost 20 months. 

Shit!

"I know"

"What do you mean you know, seriously we shoo him out the house after a full frontal reveal, he scares me to death, he stalks you, he abuses you, he mocks your weight and you actually want him to sleep with you, you've been moping around for months after Phillip  _ fuckin _ Altman? Oh give me Xanax someone, I can't take this anymore."

"Pass me the bottle when you've done Zoe"

"What are you gonna do now, you can hardly avoid him?"

"I've managed for a whole week, it's been hell"

"Yes the sooner the Dept. get into those new offices the better, the whole library feels like it's been invaded by Lit Majors, it's... doing my head in?"

Despite how she felt Helen laughed at Consuela's correct usage of that particular English colloquialism.

"Doing my head in too Connie"

"And mine"

They sat quiet around the kitchen table, eating Zoe's Cake of The Week.

Blueberry and Lemon Traybake with cream cheese icing.

Helen wanted to dive into it.

Head first.

===============

Shit shit shit shit shit shit  _ SHiiiiiiittttttttT _

He had no car to go tearing off in.

He could hardly scream around the bends, bomb down main street, flash along the road to Helen's house to prostrate himself at her feet on a scooter or roller skates now could he?

No

He'd be laughed at again.

And right now a bruised and click back beating heart could not, and would not take their mocking him, he couldn't face Helen.

Not after this.

Mr Carswell's curse had been delivered.

All Phillip had to do now was wait for the devil to collect his soul.

If he still had one after she'd dug it from his chest with a copy of 'Strange Words'

Here lies 

Phillip Altman

Died

Of Heartache

2020

Boo hoo hoo

===============

_ Miss her kiss her love her _

_ That girl is poison _

And Mommy Dearest what is the remedy for a broken heart?

A good hard Shag honey, didn't you read my chapter on teenage temper tantrums?

Silly baby.

===============

So the little thing is sitting at the bar of the Student Union.

She's been stood up. 

And Phillip knows why, he'd intercepted the date before it reached her. 

Some story he spun out of jealousy, greed and distress.

The date was weak and insecure, he wasn't as cocky, confident and he believed every word Phillip wove around the situation. 

Poor guy.

Phillip left it a good twenty minutes, by now she should be either checking her phone or fidgeting in her chair, angry as hell at being jilted.

Ripe for the plucking

Ripe for the fucking

Ripe ass

In his hands

At last.

===============

It worked.

It always did.

He was bored now. 

He wanted her to fight him off.

Or at least make some show of being reluctant.

She was far too easy, her pussy wet and welcoming before she'd even got off her stool. 

Plastic pink lipstick, hair spray hard and silky smooth legs, no sign of shaving burn or missed spots of fuzz which he found the idea of rather endearing.

She reminded him of Tracy.

Now try and get it up with that image in your mind Altman.

Go on try.

Try your hardest  _ (clears throat) _

We'll wait right here.

Just here.

Take your time.

I mean don't mind us.

Sorry you're blushing?

We'll turn our backs if you're bashful.

Oh!

Hmm...

I think that's called Premature Ejaculation Phillip.

Need a towel honey buns?

===============

Zoe was a busy busy baker.

Two dozen. 

No three dozen cakes in pretty yellow boxes ready to sell for extortionate prices to non bakers at the Farmers Market where she had a little stall once a month.

Consuela was busy putting the store back together after Black Friday.

And The Devil had her head in a copy of 'I Claudius'.

The Library had been very quiet that day.

The Devil wondered why the green car with the two tone passenger door was circling in the snow, that was the third merry go round, seems they also got people taking their families out to giggle and laugh at house Christmas light displays.

Helen had arranged their lights rather suggestively one mad, frosty morning, when Consuela got back from her new job as manager of the bookshop on Bishop Street, she couldn't stop laughing.

Helen had put their Ho Ho Ho sign up backwards on the front door.

oH oH oH

Freudian slip? 

The Devil rather enjoyed Robert Graves, Consuela had bought her a Black Friday damaged copy they couldn't sell.

Except the Devil took an instant dislike to Claudius's third wife Messalina and her gang banging friends.

_ 'She searched for something as she made love, that no man could ever dream of.' _

Utter bollocks. 

She was probably searching the ceiling as he came for himself, and not for her.

You could tell a man wrote that.

Like a man would know what a woman wanted from sex.

At all.

Ever.

Bitter Helen.

Bored Helen and very lonely Helen.

Messalina was a horny, bored, tempestuous and lonely 17 year old, married to a man old enough to be her grandfather.

Helen was a 34 year old with a job she loved, friends who were beginning to drop hints of her moving out to a place of her own, and absolutely no chance of competing with Messalina or now Cilla, the Greek Whore, president of The Guild of Prostitutes.

Whose hobby was gardening too!

She had cruised one or two dating sites (Helen - Not Cilla!) until she recognised her ex boyfriend on one, almost pitching the laptop across her bedroom floor.

Laughing and crying.

He'd been boring. 

Never wanted to experiment enough to actually find the G spot. 

His alphabet contained only 25 letters. She wondered, she daydreamed that Phillip's would most likely include the entire globe's alphabetical systems.

She'd never have the chance to find out, not now, not since he'd been avoiding the library as if it had become a hive of angry murder hornets.

She wanted him.

So much.

She wanted his tongue teasing her nipples, she wanted his hands massaging her folds till she screamed, his hair in between her fingers, his delicious pressure holding firm as she came.

Again and again.

She'd dreamt of him often enough to consider buying more than just a wash and wear kingsize fitted bedsheet.

Hellfire what had she done?

Because this time;

The fridge was still full on Wednesday (they shopped on Fridays)

And Zoe still had cake left in her tin.

===============

The car took a fifth circular reconnaissance.

It's green passenger door slightly darker than the rest of the bodywork.

The driver smirked to see Helen in the front window chair fast asleep.

She looked angelic.

Not the Devil at all.

Oh for gods sake Altman get you ass out of your new car (that's a laugh) and knock on the door, just like you had that night you picked Janine up (literally) and the judgemental beauty had sniggered and smirked at you in your new Versace suit from behind her book.

He'd been watching Helen as he preened his goatee that night, he could see her sticking her pretty pink tongue out at him in the mirror.

Ooh what he'd get her doing with that boggled the mind.

He'd had an idea that the jilted new lodger Janine couldn't stop moaning about on their date, was worth a try, an attempt, and as he kissed he pondered on how to seduce the Bookworm, he even considered his technique as he was pounding into Janine. 

All the noise he made that night was for Helen's benefit.

Not the woman on the end of his dick.

Helen looked overweight, good, that just made it even more fun.

Boney and scrawny got boring, you had to cling on for dear life if you wanted any resistance to repetitive dick thrusts.

Boney and scrawny felt like clouds of air on your hips and when all you wanted to do was cum, and cum hard that's no use. You needed friction, you needed pressure, you wanted and salivated after curves and handles and pushing fingers into firm soft fleshy breasts and hips and thighs and all things naughty and nice.

Not feeling the ribcage, or hip bone of some skinny ass easy target who came after 3 minutes, picked her G string up off your dirty floor, and made a run for the door before you'd even got soft.

He decided one more run around the block.

Just for luck.

Just to be on the safe side.

===============

Dreams.

Dirty dreams.

Oh yummy they are so nice to wake up from when the object is lying next to you, naked and hot, fine as red wine and such a mellow amusing fellow. 

With the taste of him on the end of her tongue, wondering why the thought of mad hot, noisy sex as he tied her up with lawnmower cable and fucked her senseless in the garden shed had turned her boring, comfortable underwear into a wet mess, Helen lifted herself from the chair and trotted upstairs.

She took a sneaky look into her bedroom.

Could she finish her dream off before they got home from wedding planning?

She wanted him for hours so the answer was;

No.

Better to wait until bedtime.

Greedy Gurl.

Why did Amazon always send her the purple ones?

===============

**KNOCK KNOCK**

This time it was polite, gentleman-like and unexpected.

No sound of crap modern rap music.

Helen hadn't heard any music, walking downstairs in fresh, posh, sexy panties, just for a mild lonely titillation, wiping the sleepy drool from her cheek she opened the door without thinking.

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes, aren't you cold Tradescant?"

"What the fuck you want Altman?"

"Want to cover up first or do you always treat the neighbourhood to a money shot of your snatch?"

"What you want, I'm getting cold."

Helen knew what she wanted from this snow dusted, wrapped up beanie hat under a hoodie, wet, cold, shivering hunk of musky mountain man who was standing, knocking his hands together, stamping his booted feet to keep warm as he stood on the porch.

The blast was enough to tweak nipples enough for Helen to feel them stretch her short tee, even through her padded underwire.

Phillip hadn't noticed.

And that was maddening.

"I thought I should tell you, your signs on back to front"

"What sign?"

Helen wanted to invite him in.

She wanted to trip him over, land him on his back on the hallway rug and rip his clothes off, disregarding the cold blast as it pebbled his skin and made his nipples erect.

Then to jump on top of something else that was standing to attention.

To move.

To keep moving till he ordered her off, whimpering and crying with pleasure.

"The Ho Ho Ho sign... it says..."

"I know, it's deliberate"

"Is it?"

Helen nodded slowly, he hadn't even tried to put his boot in the doorway to stop her from closing it. The smell that whafted from her had his eyes rolling back in his head, mouth watering even in the cold.

Coconut, warm Lemon Iced Coconut Cake and coffee.

Shit he could eat her up and never need another meal in his life.

"Well - I just thought I'd say before the neighbours complain"

"Why'd they do that Altman?"

"Well... don't you think it sounds... a bit..."

"Hmm?"

Helen had her hand on her hip, the other holding the door frame, leaning against it as that tee of hers snagged on the lock, pulling it up slightly to reveal an extremely pretty strokeable, fleshy, delicious, sexy;

Oh my god her midriff!

"Well - I'll be... Merry Christmas" He turned to leave.

The snow was covering his car.

He expected to be called back.

Well he can keep on expecting.

===============

He'd had the most vivid dream of Helen.

He'd had the most wonderful sensation of her, waking to a cold empty apartment, the feeling of her lips touching him everywhere, all at once, as if she were a thousand hungry mouths eating him for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Second breakfast, brunch, afternoon tea, supper, midnight fucking feast!

He'd cried with lust after her that Friday morning.

He'd gotten back into his beaten up Fiat after standing before her in his winter wonderland thermals.

She'd stood there as if she were on holiday in the Seychelles.

Her tits.

He could write an essay on those, literally. 

Pretty, kinda lopsided maybe, like he cared with his tongue pressed tight to the top of his mouth, how the hell had he found the strength to walk off her porch?

She hadn't invited him in.

So he hadn't pushed his luck.

Wishing he could get the sight of her dark blue silky panties out of his head for a moment, just one moment so he could sleep, breath, eat or think in a straight line.

Had she been wearing that alluring ensemble as he'd circled the neighbourhood like some deranged pussy hungry carrion bird?

He'd tried so hard not to look down, and she'd noticed him doing that.

Not looking down.

Then she'd looked annoyed.

Not looking at her pretty thighs, uneven birth and stretch-marked flesh wrapped in deep night sky blue.

Then she'd looked pissed off.

She'd looked disappointed closing the door, nipples playing the tease, lips red and wet. All the things he wanted, all the things he needed, all the things he'd done without for two months.

He was lust in a baggy black sweater fit to burst.

All for that snotty Brit who was now in the driving seat.

No longer in yellow, but in dark silky blue running barefoot in the snow as he hid in the trees watching, waiting, tempted, hungry.

Insatiable.

And yet he'd walked decidedly, confidently back down the driveway and sped at the legal limit to the main road and his home.

Home to a tidy, comfortable, well kept apartment. He'd even learnt how to work the washer/dryer which looked like it belonged in an episode of Star Trek.

Domesticated, lonely.

Poor Phillip, even I feel for him now.

Not.

===============

Helen was having a wail of a time.

She knew.

Course she did.

She wanted him to beg.

She wanted him on his knees asking forgiveness.

She didn't know Phillip Altman 

At all.

===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think Phillip was edgy enough, so I had to do this to him, you do understand? And Helen is interested in Sex despite the prim and rather cold superior attitude.
> 
> Well forgive me for such a short chapter, but bear with me, it gets better!
> 
> See you again soon reader!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter, my apologies - will have another one up on Wednesday 16th September... its had to go through some revisions, as I am fickle and change my mind constantly!
> 
> I am also dropping a bombshell for the followers, I think you can take it, you're all sensible people!
> 
> I however... am not.
> 
> Its Christmas, and its either a Happy Time or a Sad Time
> 
> Which are you?

Christmas saw a card arrive from her dad in Germany, working for some weird tech company he wouldn't shut up telling her about.

Christmas saw a card arrive from her mother in Clearwater, Florida. Selling Sink Hole insurance that she would not stop detailing the pitfalls of.

Ha Ha very funny!

How Helen had stayed sane in such a household was a mystery the answer to which she had tried to puzzle out.

Oops, she'd not sent them one.

Who cared?

They hadn't.

She'd emailed some pictures of Zoe and Consuela's wedding to them with no response.

No reply to the effect of; 

Helen darling you look so pretty, Helen darling you lost your puppy fat at long last, is that Chanel you're wearing? Oh Helen you do look happy, we're so proud of you, Helen you're making something of your life.

Nothing.

Not even a read receipt from either of them.

Except;

And this was the surprise.

Phillip Altman had sent her a card.

But his family were Jewish, did they celebrate this holiday? She was ashamed to realise that she didn't know.

Looking it up with a friend in the library she found that hell no, they didn't. In fact for a long time The Jewish People feared the holiday and stayed indoors. Some families had now incorporated Christmas and Hanukkah, decorated their trees and hung wreaths on their doors.

Helen wasn't sure how religious Phillip was, and kept out of it. She had no religious beliefs, even though her family were protestant.

None of her business.

But his card.

Which contained a $100 dollar token

Was kept.

In her new book.

'Plant' 

A special Phaidon Editors edition she'd had to ask Consuela to order from England.

The Christmas card had a picture of a Lemon Tree on the front.

===============

Had he lost interest?

February, cold, wet, miserable.

The shortest, longest darkest month of the year.

Helen began to wear as many layers as she could just to keep warm walking backwards and forwards to work. Since moving into her little cramped apartment in town she'd had to sell the run around in favour of Shank's pony.

_ (Which to non English speakers means under your own steam, on the old plates of meat) _

On your feet now Helen!

And now not only was she independant.

She was as fit as a fiddle

And sad.

What you got given in one hand, they took it out of the other in some way, but she held her head up, kept on going, didn't let these constant, annoying, totally avoidable setbacks prostrate her, send her into depression. A shame spiral that she was dancing around the edge of daily.

If Phillip Altman knew how much he was torturing Helen, he'd be pelting down the street to sweep her off her feet and into bed, kissing, caressing, holding her so close she couldn't breathe. Her hair in his mouth, his lips kissing her other lips as she purred and gave him directions to the sweetest spots.

But she had a date.

It had come and gone.

Kinda successful, if you consider he didn't use his hands to touch but to talk (a lot) and she hadn't felt the urge to slap him and send him to the ER nurse.

They'd not swapped numbers.

But Helen felt better that someone at least had the balls, the nerve, to ask her out. Returning after the date to toast and marmalade found herself daydreaming again. She'd made a friend of the Male variety.

Why didn't Phillip just ask, why did he have to be so damned elusive?

He never seemed to have much bother with all his other friends and their benefits!

They'd been doing this dance for what felt like a hundred years.

She wanted, craved, dreamt about his hands all around her, lying at the bottom of her bed with those puppy eyes making love to her in the irises. Feeling the tug of his fingers in her hair dragging her to his erection to kiss, to fondle, to stroke, to release.

Begging her to kiss him dead.

Begging her to give him his heart back.

So she kicked the central heating with her shoe in frustration, walking around with a throw over her shoulders, mug of tea in her hand she stood and watched the world go by underneath her window.

Mrs Zoe and Consuela Calderera had helped her move in, happy together and making a damn nuisance of themselves, popping round to see if she needed anything, wanted anything from the store, would she like to come with them to the movies, sorry... 'Pictures'.

She'd not seen Mr P Altman for a while. 

She'd heard about him though. 

She'd also heard his music blaring out of a new car he was driving. 

A Jaguar E Type.

Red.

Oh god what was the Sugar Mommy's name this time?

Not Tracy?

God please no. 

Not again Helen couldn't stand it.

In a relationship at last Phillip?

You lucky bastard.

What's the unlucky lady's name?

Is she a PhD?

A Petty heartless Dickwarmer?

===============

It's a shame when the two main characters you've been writing about actually don't get together at the end of your story.

Clematis grows up with Roses, but eventually it swamps and strangles, preventing the soft sweet smelling petals from opening. Until an avid gardener pulls the Montana down, cuts it all back and lets the sun shine onto the repressed last living English rose.

The gardener can almost hear the plant breath a sigh of relief.

Helen lived unhappily ever after.

Phillip married his sugar mommy, had three kids, divorced, moved to Baltimore, found Janine, had another kid.

And walked out on her too.

I mean where else were you expecting this to lead?

I hope you weren't expecting some fairy tale. 

This isn't a happy ever after, you know, I do not and will not write Disney style Happy Ever After shit, not even if you paid me Jeff Bezo's hourly wage.

This isn't your average pick me up fable.

So Fuck me? 

Is that what I heard you say to me, reader?

Well perhaps you're right, I should be strung up at dawn and shot, I should be made to suffer, burn in hell.

You think I'm not Heartless reader?

Fuck you Altman.

Fuck you too Tradescant.

I never even let them share a kiss, only one or two kind words now and again. Never a soft caring look, a caress, a heart pounding scenario where they fell into each other's arms and declared undying love for each other.

Yuk.

Yuk and double Yuk. 

I can hear the Disney start up music now and it's making me feel quite sick.

You think Altman would settle for this?

You think Tradescant would settle for this?

You serious?

You think this...

Is...

THE END

===============

?

?

Hmm

??????

  
  
  


===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boo Hoo Reader
> 
> Come shout at me on tumblr if you dare!
> 
> morby.tumblr.com
> 
> I can be found under nutcase!
> 
> This is sooo much fun, hope you like the new artwork! I commissioned it specially  
> FROM ME!!!!  
> 🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is now April - the Month of Fools.
> 
> Mr P Altman Esq is enjoying his newly bought set of wheels, and who can blame the sexy beast, its a Jaguar E Type, a car that a God would choose to drive him to heaven in.
> 
> What's a Porsche?
> 
> Helen has moved flats, into town and is admitting she does quite like R&B music after all.
> 
> But she's fooling herself that she's not missing Phillip, now he has a significant other, a nice brand spanking new Shugar Mommy, he is definitely persona non grata.
> 
> But she refuses to buy a pet cat.
> 
> Oh and I would like to introduce you to a certain special someone new in Helen's life.
> 
> He's French
> 
> He's tall
> 
> He's Stephen Burtynsky
> 
> And Phillip wants to wring his handsome neck.

  
  


Life is far more complex than just a quick ending.

Life is far more interesting and diverse for an uncomplicated ending. 

I hate cliche.

I also hate happy endings that square all the details away nice and neat and tidy. Phillip Altman is not nice and neat and tidy. Helen Tradescant is complicated, needy and superior.

Both of them like playing foolish games.

And they never did finish Mr Carswell's.

Not properly anyway.

==========

It all started when...

Oh I'm so sorry... 

My dear reader, are you sitting comfortably?

Do you have your warm/cold/soft/alcoholic drink by your elbow?

Do you have a pillow you can smother your Significant Other with, to stop them snoring beside you?

Great.

Because that's how it started; 

With someone sitting comfortably;

Listening to Busta Rhymes in April. 

'Flava in Ya Ear [Remix]'

A real rap tune, at least you could hear the dude rapping and try to learn the lyrics.

It wasn't a patch on Slick Rick or The Pharcyde according to Snooty Brit Helen, who loved old skool hip hop.

The repetitive and reverberating bass rolled from a car, standing at the kerbside of Krenshaw, waiting for the woman with the shopping cart to cross.

Was bound to catch people's attention.

Phillip Altman always stood out in a crowd.

Yowser

Hot Stuff

Sexy MF

==========

"Altman?"

She hung her head out of her flat window a little further, hair brushed by the breeze, sun on her face.

All she saw was his hand on the car roof, tapping the bass with his fingers. The car disappeared with a screech of brakes around the corner, out of sight but she could still hear him.

_ Now don't you get suspicious _

_ Grant your wishes every time _

_ Breaking dishes when I Busta Rhyme _

_ I know one thing the whole world least expected  _

_ Was how we all connected to break fool on the same record _

_ Five new flavas on beat, feel the fuckin heat _

_ I really think you should retreat while we blow up the street _

He was back to his normal, awful self.

Her wounded heart. 

Blurring and bleeding memories of him. 

She'd twisted his past cruel comments to mean; 

True things.

Not quite such nasty things.

He'd called her  _ Bookworm. _

Because that's what she was, overweight, unshapely and had a book in her hand every waking moment.

Phillip Altman called her a  _ Bitch. _

Because she was awkward, superior, snobby and rude. 

Phillip Altman told her to  _ Fuck Off. _

Because she loved to run away, push him away, keep him away.

Phillip Altman was stored, inside her mind, as a series of abusive, shouted, mean derogatory comments which, she mistakenly assumed, were some attempt of his to show her he liked her, thought something of her.

She could and would give him everything, tell him what she was dreaming of.

All he had to do was ask, lie back and take him, and not nicely either, she'd do whatever he wanted, just so she could be in his arms; 

Feel something; 

Anything.

Sell herself short.

He was worth it wasn't he? 

He'd a girlfriend, of course he did, he was gorgeous, he was funny, he was approachable and witty. She'd probably been in the car with him, slim, long shaved to perfection legs, rich, clever, loosely curled brunette hair, symmetrical face with big tits.

And willing.

With a fucking PhD.

And a dress size in the single figures.

Everything Helen wasn't, and never would be.

Phillip had made up his mind and was tired of their game, bored of her constant refusals, avoidances.

Boy

Did I say she didn't know Phillip Altman?

At all?

Yes I think I did.

Hot Lady.

Are you melting?

Into nothing?

Who will sooth your tender skin tonight?

Not Phillip.

He was soothing someone elses.

With grace

Precision

Woof.

==========

The decision to be a spinster is a difficult one, and sometimes an irreversible one.

Not like a Vasectomy.

Helen refused to buy a cat, or any pet, of any description.

Even when Mr Deets had discussed it in depth one break time, she'd considered telling him to piss off and mind his own business. 

Keep out. 

Leave her alone. 

Let her be. 

She was also considering giving him a chance, he was only 10 years older, he was kinda good looking, I mean he needed to grow his hair, lose the paunch, gain about two feet in height.

Change his name.

Worth a punt?

**NO NO NO!**

Helen you're not desperate, you're lonely and that is not the same thing at all.

She was pushing people away again and filling up the kitchen cupboards with sweet treats and trash.

Pushing the Periodical cart slowly along the corridor, in a world of her own again, she never saw the tall, good looking chap with the leather jacket, ooze from behind the stacks of 'Journal of Neuroscience' and 'Behavioral and Brain Sciences'.

Sly.

Handsome devil.

Checking her out.

Like a book.

Ding Dong Bell;

Pussy In The Well.

==========

Phillip had been busy.

Getting jiggy with it.

Mommy Dearest was very surprised, speaking from France on the phone, she could hear the difference in his voice. 

He sounded mature. 

Decided. 

Secure. 

Yeah Mom  _ (thank god no more Mommy)  _ I've been great. I'm finally beginning to see a life that doesn't involve bed hopping, I'm being caring and considerate, I'm a Man Mom, I wasn't before, I was a Boy.

Can I have a badge, or medal for good behaviour?

Please?

He reserved the epithet 'Dearest' for someone far closer to his heart.

Someone who'd bought him the Jaguar E.

Someone who cared for him as much as he did.

Someone who said they were happy, wasn't he a good boy, wasn't he doing well and wouldn't he be even better if he did more?

Such a wonderful man.

He'd graduated with flying colours.

And Phillip had Helen to thank for everything.

Happy for him, blow ya mind honey.

People can change.

No they can't

Yes they can

No

They

Cant.

_ (yes... they can) _

==========

Finding odd shaped packages on the doorstep usually meant the postie had gotten the address wrong and needed next door. The guy who liked to coarse fish in the lake, bought rods and angling supplies online was always getting something delivered.

He was on first name terms with the UPS guy.

He was kinda cute.

The parcels were always for him.

More than once Helen had bumped into him, returning a package which was pushed through her letter box by mistake.

So naturally, she picked up the parcel without a second glance, knocked on Stephen's door.

Again.

And waited for the greek god to answer her summons.

"Hey Hels"

Jesus that voice was mellow, with a slight Gaelic lilt.

"Hey Steve... postie's done it again, sorry."

"I'm beginning to wonder if he's playing matchmaker"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Well you and I always seem to be running into each other, strange, don't you think sweetie?"

"We're neighbours Steve"

Don't call me Sweetie!

"Yeah I guess..."

Don't smile at me like that!

"Whoa... hey hand that back a minute"

The parcel had her name on it, not his. 

No happy tick smile on the side. 

She hadn't the money to waste on frivolous online purchases, unlike her more affluent neighbour, standing in his doorway, asking her in with his eyes, lips, hips, his leather jacket hanging on the wall behind him.

"Coffee?"

"Hmm... no... no sorry thanks anyway... maybe another time"

Helen took the surprisingly heavy parcel and threw it on the kitchen table, stared at it, felt through the plastic, trying to guess it's contents, began preparing dinner.

Her parents?

They'd always been adverse to giving Birthday gifts, far too conventional, it was only how many times you'd orbited the Sun.

She never got a card.

Oh hang on, it would be from Zoe and Consuela, of course! Feeling better she brought out the kitchen knife and opened the parcel.

Five minutes later, standing with open mouth and wide eyes, Helen doubted very much her girlfriends would ever send her anything like what she found, inside.

Bloody.

Hell.

Fire.

How the hell did they know her waist size?

And how did you put it on, did you need an understanding friend to help? The company name emblazoned on the packaging slip meant nothing to her.

The garment felt soft between her fingers, rubbing it on her cheek, the fabric; 

So cool, 

So clean;

So sleek and sensual.

Stiff.

Dark, deep dark bluest blue, cold stars, it would suspend her planets; 

So beautifully.

Delicately. 

White embroidered stars around the bodice, steel boned, hooks to hang stockings from.

Matching panties.

Oh my god they fit her too, eventually, after many attempts and muddled mirror struggles.

Helen was sweating.

Helen was glowing.

Helen felt so pretty.

And out of breath.

She'd never felt this deeply sexy and sensual in her whole entire life.

She felt as if she actually had a figure. 

Running her hands over the waist, surprised at how the laces up the back had, at first, been so wide apart, could be pulled so tight that the bodice met in the middle at her back.

It accentuated everything she had.

It gave her a cleavage Phillip could ski down, if he wanted to, if she let him.

And she felt warm.

Loved.

Desired.

She'd have one hell of a fight getting this off, or someone would.

She laughed to think Stephen had held this wonderment in his hands, he'd've had a heart attack if she'd opened it in front of him.

Someone else was going to have a heart attack when (if) he saw her in this.

Helen felt everything.

Happy and sad.

Demonic and angelic.

She couldn't stop looking at herself in the bedroom mirror, inquisitive, shocked.

On fire.

"Is this really me Phil?"

Helen felt powerful.

"Do I really look like this Phil? Do I look like this... to you... because I don't recognise myself at all. I look nice, I look sophisticated."

Helen felt like a particle of energy looking for another to join with as she walked, strutted out into the living room.

"But I feel like a whore"

She was ready to explode.

As a birthday card was shoved under her apartment door.

Hand delivered.

==========

"Come, repent my accomplished knight, you're dressed for me to tear it from you. With that ripped chest and strong arms, come dig me out of soil, I'm lonely, sensual, a little Bookworm who needs to shed her cocoon, open out to you, eat your heart, tickle you with my tongue and questing fingers. Don't I look charming, come put your lips on me, turn me on, I'm jingling baby, good, yes I wish you would."

She whispered to the door as she spied through the peephole.

She was out of her mind with him, dressed in his present and panting. 

The flat was a tip;

Her dinner half made.

Washing in the dryer. 

Be sensible Helen and put on a dressing gown.

She ran to her room, shoved it over her shoulders, took a deep breath and opened the door.

Phillip was talking to Stephen.

Apparently they knew each other from Uni.

"Oh hey Tradescant, thought I'd forgotten your birthday I'll bet? I just had time to get you a card... Burtynsky did you know it was Bookworm's Birthday?"

"Yes, oh yes... I did"

And Stephen turned the prettiest set of blue/grey eyes on Helen, now shivering under her gown, trying to disappear into the walls, his eyes bored through the cotton, to the silk and steel, underneath.

"You know Helen got a present in the mail this morning?"

"Did you Tradescant?"

"Have you tried it on yet Hels, does it fit you snug as a glove, sleek and sexy?" 

Stephen spoke in such sultry husky tones that Phillip had to do a double take.

Helen leant against the wall, it wasn't enough support for the crescendo of feeling cascading into every muscle, filling her with cold panic. The embarrassment that she was actually wearing something Stephen had sent her.

And not Phillip at all!

She was mortified, petrified.

Pickled in Aspic.

"No, it doesn't fit"

Was all she said, through a mouth of fuzzy cold marbles.

Deep sky space vacuum cold. 

Phillip wasn't smiling.

Phillip was pipped to the post for the first time in his life, his birthday card and token felt very inadequate.

"You sure Hels, are you quite sure?"

Stephen took a step into the corridor towards her, sleek hair wavy, like Phillip's but blonde, with strong wide shoulders, narrow waist, younger than her by a few years, and now, bursting with spiteful joy that he'd finally got one over Phillip  _ fuckin _ Altman.

He'd been waiting for years to reach for that crown!

Phillip would have gifted him the entire kingdom that came with it if he could talk to Helen alone. He stood watching her reaction to Stephen, how she looked timid, bashful and beautiful.

Shit she was sexy.

Did she smile at Stephen?

Fuck yes.

She did.

Oh 

Shit.

==========

Men are like busses.

Not one for hours, then two arrive at once, and neither will take you in the direction you want to go.

Phillip Altman was her age.

Stephen Burtynsky was 7 years his junior.

Both had the same build.

Both had that same cheeky, sexy, alluring smile, that loosened brassiers, put the satin in women's panties. 

She could see through both their acts. 

She ought to have dropped the dressing gown to the floor, off her sleek shaking shoulders, dared them both to take her on; 

Right there. 

In the foyer.

Both at once, rush at her and sweep her into bed, off her feet, screaming with lust and excitement. Daring them as they both undressed to;

See who could make her cum first. 

See who could make her cum the most.

See who could make her cum the hardest. 

Whomever makes her feel the best;

Wins.

She felt empty and on fire, in heat and cold vulnerable.

Fragments of the blast of reality were embedded in the plasterboard walls, painted a horrible shade of green. 

Phillip was dark.

Stephen was fair.

Phillip, was experienced.

Stephen, was French.

Ooh la la!

Phillip's hobby was sleeping with the local talent, and reading Victorian Gothic Horror.

Stephen's hobby was coarse fishing at the local lake, and reading Medicine.

She had such diverse overwhelming choices!

Lifting her head from a survey of the floor tiles, her broken dreams scattered as confetti, she made her excuses, picked up her birthday card, closed her door on the pair of them both looking puzzled. 

Before they spotted the tears in her eyes.

She really was better off on her own.

And the beautiful, blue, deep dark sky basque, couldn't be ripped off her shivering body fast enough. 

Panicking.

Helen left scratches where the fabric had held onto her curves. 

Not wanting to leave warm pulsing flesh;

Vanishing her bumps and hollows.

Caressing her breasts.

Accentuating a gorgeous figure which she hurriedly covered up with an ugly, comfortable bra, pullover, utilitarian knickers, and ski pants.

All of this could be yours boys.

Sitting on the thrift store sofa in floods of hot angry tears.

My God

The shame.

The sex she was missing.

Fuck.

==========

She seriously regretted not asking them both in after 30 minutes of horny wish fulfillment, staring at the basque and panties, discarded, on the floor of her bedroom.

She was drinking a very hot cup of tea, trying to stop the shaking.

She'd never considered two men wanting her at the same time, never dreamt she'd ever be desired by a man.

But the thought of two soft lipped mouths kissing her.

Everywhere.

Two pairs of hands stroking her skin.

Two pairs of hands peeling off her clothes.

Two pairs of eyes engorging themselves on  _ her body. _

Her bud was telling her that it needed help, it needed attention, it wanted the fantasy she was dreaming of.

Demanding she accept their pleasuring, for them both to pull out her orgasms till she forgot what day it was.

Two tall handsome devils in her bed; 

She watched them as they caressed each other gently;

They made love to each other; 

Then they slept.

She felt like a woman at last watching Phillip's hands rub circles into the curls of blonde hair behind Stephen's neck, lips kissing bare shoulders.

In a bed made for two there were three. 

Helen could accommodate both, she had no idea how, but would it be so much fun finding out?

Stephen could kiss down her back. 

And Phillip would stroke her hair.

Stephen could wander cold hands to her arse, squeeze.

And Phillip would walk her through the nicer parts of hell, throwing insults, as whispered sweet/bitter nothings.

She had the affluent French blonde buying her sexy lingerie which made her feel desired and desirable.

She had the affluent American brunette buying her birthday cards, covered in Grecian artwork, handwriting voluptuous, a $150 book token inside.

Which man had the best track record and could offer her what she really wanted?

What did she want again?

Oh yes of course, she wanted both of them, in her bed, and her inbetween, dancing in the heat Phillip and Stephen generated, swimming in their arms.

A sexy horny slutty story to tell her girlfriends, like the other Freshman ladies did in hushed whispers and giggles, showing off.

Except;

Helen didn't want a man who would cheat on; 

A current wealthy girlfriend.

Helen didn't want a man who sat at the side of a cold lake holding a pole; 

And thought that was fun.

Oh my god, the two of them were playing her!

They'd both cooked this scheme up together, it had to be, the only explanation that fit the facts. 

Why had Phillip turned up at that exact moment?

Why was Stephen lingering in the corridor? 

He'd looked reluctant to take the parcel when she thought it was his. He'd almost thrust it back to her, as if he knew what it was. He'd known full well what it was!

He'd probably called Altman up and had a right good laugh at her expense, yeah the two bastards had come to an arrangement, and now she felt very; 

Very dirty. 

Sense and shame won the day, cut up and rushed into the spell they cast on her, walked to her laptop, pulled up the Flats in Your Area.

And decided to start over.

Somewhere else.

Away from this town

Away from this life

Away from them all.

She died inside.

==========

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
> 
> I got like loads of hits!
> 
> Dudes... my anons... 
> 
> thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou
> 
> For hitting up my story and making @morby a very happy lady - I danced around the house - I sang as I pegged out my washing - I didn't come down off the ceiling for days!
> 
> Drop me a line on tumblr if you like, I don't bite (much)
> 
> And keep enjoying this utter nonsense which someone described as witty.
> 
> (Morby looked it up - it means... its good - or something)
> 
> \--- Hahahahha ---
> 
> Wishing you all well!


	9. Eight and A Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Phillip Altman never has much luck with the ladies nowadays.
> 
> He should learn to bite off what he can chew, not take on someone with more balls, more sense, and more heart than he'll ever have.
> 
> Everyday is exactly the same.
> 
> So why does Helen Tradescant still want to run into his arms, when she can see toilet roll stuck to his knees?

Feet on the expensive coffee table;

Crumpling the dust covers of the expensive coffee table books;

Pushing with his toe, the expensive metal sculpture of a ballerina, tipping it to the floor.

It bounced, skidded.

Leg bent in at unnatural angle.

Phillip Altman was watching an old John Carpenter movie on the expensive TV. Thursday night, cold and tired, daydreaming, a half eaten chinese takeout on his knee.

Looked pathetic.

Looked bored.

Looked in need of female attention, sweet, gentle, sensual and caring.

Weren't people his age supposed to be living it up in a nightclub, or drinking with their friends in a bar downtown?

Getting tipsy?

_ Three, here comes the four to the five to the six _

_ Self explanatory, I ain't gotta say I'm rich _

_ Yes, single man, I ain't tryin' to get hitched _

_ Liquor wasted on me, man, son of a bitch _

Phillip, he'd rather be with Helen.

Driving in his car, content to be her passenger. He'd let her drive, letting her do anything she wanted, everything she wanted. 

God damn it, Helen would never be able to get enough of him. 

Phillip would make damn sure of that.

Send her so tipsy;

Send her so crazy; 

Send her so dizzy she'd lean into him for support.

He could make her feel so good.

Sweet Lemon Helen, he'd prefer you behind the wheel, taking him in your hands, telling him exactly what you wanted him to do.

Instruction.

Dominance.

Humiliation.

He'd seen the film before, half remembered that the next Dr Strange movie was named very similarly. 

And as the woman wearing white swallowed Sam Neill's car keys, grinning, then running the car off the road, Phillip turned to the figure, who sat beside him on his square uncomfortable, expensive black designer sofa.

Beautiful, unattainable, snooty;

Helen.

Wearing her inexpensive Walmart Lemon dress.

If not in person, but in his imagination.

His mind's eye.

The contrast in colours made her look real;

The best thing in his history.

_ Black and yellow black and yellow black and yellow. _

Uncrossed and recrossed her legs towards him.

She was glowing.

_ "Hey Phil, you're so handsy, goodness me that tickles, please do it again!" _

Holding the popcorn, laughing and spilling it, as the grey haired man on the bicycle, pulled up outside the phone kiosk, made a call, then cycled away. 

Sam Neill's face turned ashen white as Styles, with a broken back, on all fours, crawled out of his car and chased him away.

Helen would have been giggling at that, throwing popcorn at Phillip's head, knowing full well he'd only put the film on for background noise, it would be enough to ignore as they made out in his apartment. 

To the sounds of oozing demons, screaming demons, angry murderous demons with dripping red claws.

Helen would roast him for grabbing the bucket from her grasp and taking her chin in his fingers.

_ "Oh Phil, you're not going to kiss me are you?" _

Looking deep into her eyes.

_ "Oh Phil your eyes are so deep brown, you're gorgeous." _

Drawing her in for;

_ "Will you make me feel so good?" _

A deep; 

_ "If you want me, where's my money, buy me clothes." _

Luxurious kiss.

One that made the muscles of his abdomen clench and release, the nerve endings connecting with those behind his ears.

He was rushing for release, his hand down his trousers as his imagination undulated her body in front of him.

"I'm gonna eat you up Helen, every morsel, lick up every last drop of you, let me work you, let me sweep you away, I'd pay anything, to have you here and wanting me."

A deep growl of affection and longing sung out to the empty apartment, his fist around his dick, pulling gently.

His special effects were dated, his soundtrack second rate, acting ropy and lacklustre.

_ "Phil, you're so perfect, and what a huge dick you have, all the better to fuck me with Phil." _

Walking his fingers up her leg (his leg) up her thigh (his thigh), undoing her dress, (undoing his shirt).

"Lets see where this takes us baby."

In his dreams she would snigger and writhe, arch her back, lie prostrate on the cushions, pulling him down to her lips by his shirt collar.

He'd have one eye on the movie as he lay between her legs.

The film was now all but forgotten, except for one or two loud shouts and screeches of brakes as Sam Neill tried to escape Hobbs End.

As he stroked himself further and further into mild ecstacy, Phillip tried to put down the images of Helen with Stephen.

Tried and failed.

They appeared ghost-like opposite him, fucking furiously on the floor, the terazzo tiles of his apartment milky white, a puddle of love forming, she made such lewd sounds as she swam fingers through his blonde hair.

**_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP_ **

Hump moaning the only thing Phillip could hear, he wanted to drown it out, covered his ears, pushed up the volume on the TV as Stephen came and shouted her name.

Not an Ex's name.

Not Tracy.

_ "HELENnnnnnnnnnnn" _

__ **_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP_ **

Remembering how he'd done exactly the same to that lodger who Helen lived with at the time, what was her name? The one wearing the red jeans and pink blouse who'd given in to him so fast, she'd practically surrendered as she walked down the driveway.

**oH oH oH!**

The pathway Phillip walked down in the snow, wrapped up against the cold, with the thought of blue against cool flesh, clinging onto Helen's curves, suggesting the furrow between her fleshy thighs so perfectly.

The one that Stephen Burtynsky was now ploughing with enthusiasm.

He was much more handsome.

Not as rich, but stable; 

Intelligent.

All the things he knew would drive Helen Tradescant wild crazy, just mad enough in love to wear something Phillip caught a little glimpse of, under her bathrobe, in May.

Something she needed to cover up.

Something she was embarrassed by intensely.

Something blue.

And the author Sutter Cane in the movie told Sam Neill as he travelled on the bus, that his favourite colour was blue!

The Devil's favourite colour was blue!

Sam Neill screamed, waking up from the dream. 

Phillip Altman screamed, Helen wasn't with him, she never would be. 

She hated Phillip and loved Stephen.

Loved Stephen.

Fucked Stephen.

Loved Stephen.

Fucked Stephen.

The smarmy bastard would have those winter wonderland panties of hers around his fingers, twirling them as if a flag of a conquering hero. 

_ "I plant my flag deep into the beautiful body of Helen Tradescant, now the property of Stephen Burtynsky, laying claim to all her territories, fulsome figure, gentle curves, shining blue eyes and soft skin." _

But not her mind.

The thought of another man lying in his place, between her legs, fingers combing her hair, his orgasm stuttered and disappeared.

He pumped harder; 

Chasing it.

He'd worked hard to get Helen to notice him.

He'd worked hard to get Helen to talk to him.

FAILED!

What was that?

Did I just hear;

_ 'Serves you right Altman!" _

I think I did, and yes, I quite agree.

Phillip Altman you are a selfish, opportunistic, spiteful, thoughtless man. 

You've no idea at all, how to treat a woman;

Or treat yourself. 

You never had anyone to show you how to be kind, except your sister Wendy, who was practically a child herself as she helped to bring you up, you were more her son than her brother.

Absent Mommy Dearest, had she really had anything to do with your life apart from how she controlled it, directed it, criticised it?

The only time Phillip could be himself was when he was fucking around, and that was over now.

Wasn't it?

Fraid not. 

Oh come on he's a bloke. 

He's down with the late night hits, playing around, wanting to get down and dirty.

His appetite was insatiable.

He put on a clean suit, a johnny in his back pocket and drove to his favourite bar.

What a life!

He was chasing an orgasm.

Still a player.

Still a member of the Fuckboy Club.

The one rule about Fuckboy Club is...

We do not talk about...

==========

Her name was, hang on... he can remember it if he thinks hard...

"Charlie, Charlotte, Katherine?"

He's sure it's one of those.

"Hey Altman, wanna ride me?"

"Keep moving, I want you so bad baby."

Ergh.

What a cliche.

What a fucking awful way to ask for head.

Couldn't you be a little more eloquent, something like;

_ "My dear lady, would you kindly follow me, into the powder room stall, where I shall kneel at your feet, tingle your lady parts with my long talented tongue, till you scream my name repeatedly?" _

_ Lady parts? _

God that's funny;

It's making me cringe.

Could you imagine Phillip asking Helen that question?

But Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine didn't seem to care;

All she wanted was hard and fast;

Something to take away the taste of the working week, something to brag about to the other girls on Monday morning. Make up some story about him being good with his tongue and shit with his huge, gigantic, thick set, long, extra long;

Delicious dick.

"You have enough for our cab fare home my sweet boy?"

Of course, he was loaded, everyone knew that.

"No need, I'll do you here"

And pulled her, roughly, by the arm into the bathroom, finding an empty stall, made himself comfortable, pulled her panties down, lifted her skirt up, and sank his head deep into her crotch.

"Waste no time do you sweet boy?"

"Shut up"

_ 'How rude'  _

Thought the woman in the next stall.

"Altman, fuck... my god that feels so good"

Phillip didn't want to hear her speak, he had the accent he wanted in his mind.

"I said... shut the fuck up"

A voice in the stall next to them, whispered through gritted teeth.

"Simon Says, shut the fuck up... now rub on your titties... girls... rub on your titties." 

Phillip licked everything he could reach, he wasn't sure where he was.

"Break me off, show me what you got, cos I don't want no minute man"

The woman in the next stall, whispered, feather soft.

His passion played out as he swirled up into Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine's labia, strong and warm, her back pushed against the stall, lifted her legs onto his shoulders, he knelt on the dirty floor and pushed his nose closer to her scent.

She smelt of butter, warm butter and toasted bread.

Oh dear.

Now she ought to have seen the doctor about that.

Poor Baby!

"Altman you have a motormouth, putting it to very good use - shit that's...  _ fuck..." _

Her head flew back to the stall wall, made the woman in the next jump and pull up her panties double quick.

Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine (I think) has a filthy mouth.

Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine (I think) may have a yeast infection.

Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine (I think) has no filter and doesn't care. 

Someone has just exited the stall to the left, and is washing their hands.

Fast;

No twenty second rule here tonight.

"I said... shut the fuck up whore!"

"I will I will arghhhh, god that's so  _ gooodddddd Altman... _ "

Phillip's face was a mess. 

He was hot;

Heart beating, hoping that the woman above him would turn into Helen Lemon Dress, somehow a miracle would strike, and Helen Lemon Dress would be thrashing, for him, would learn to love him doing this;

To her;

For her; 

If she asked him to.

He'd be full of fire and mystery; 

He'd lure her into a dark; 

Warm room; 

Make her dizzy with him, kissing, snuggling close, holding her closer, feeling heaven inside his head as his stomach sent pleasure pain to his brain.

Instead he raised panther dark eyes to the woman thumping her fists against the toilet door, thrashing her head, screaming his name.

"I'm coming Phillip, shit fuck damn, you bad boy, I'm so...  _ fuckin... _ close"

So what?

You were close?

Who cares?

Phillip knew you were, he didn't need you to tell him.

Who's benefit were you screaming for anyway Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine?

Yourself?

Phillip?

Or the sophisticated snobby looking woman who was pushing open the ladies room door of the bar you'd been drinking in, a turn of her blonde head, a swallow in a dry throat.

Tears in her eyes?

Maybe

==========

Helen needed a stiff drink when she returned to the bar and met Zoe, waving over the cute bartender, he winked and refreshed her glass.

"Are you okay, you look like you've seen a ghost"

"He's in there, no no Zoe, don't go in yet, give them both a minute, apparently, when I left, she was so  _ fuckin  _ close!"

Helen leant against the kickbar, her pumps made a squeak against the metal, her little duck earrings set off against her dress.

Guess which one dear reader!

Oh Shit.

_ Phillip... Mr Altman...  _

Your Miracle has just arrived.

"I saw him go in just after you did, fucks sake does he never learn, does he have no sense of self, is he just a fuckboy after all?"

"No"

What question was that answering, Helen thought it answered all, very well.

"You had a very close call there Hels, my god, I'd hate it if I knew he were treating you this way, I'd have his balls for earrings"

"I very much doubt that he has any, not the one's that count anyway."

"But you liked him once, didn't you?"

Helen took a sip of her drink, decided it needed something to chase it after all, and called back the bartender.

"You've had a bad day Zee?"

"Big row with Connie"

Zoe looked worried, they hardly ever fought, this marriage thing wasn't as easy as the movies made it out to be.

"Not the D&D game thing again?"

Helen, despite the box of frogs living in her stomach, one eye on the Ladies Room door, tried to lighten Zoe's deteriorating mood.

"No, whether we should adopt if this doesn't work"

"Oh"

A serious subject, a very serious undertaking.

Helen held her council, she also held her breath as a dishevelled Mr P. Altman staggered out of the ladies, trying to look inconspicuous with toilet paper stuck to his knees.

He looked around the bar.

And saw Helen;

He always saw Helen;

He looked out for Helen.

And wanted to curl into a ball and die.

His Miracle 

Waiting for him, just as he'd asked.

"Fuck me - Tradescant"

"Looks like you already did Phillip"

Zoe was having none of his bullshit tonight, standing in front of her friend, protective, preventing Helen rushing out in tears.

She could feel pressure against her back.

"None of your goddamn business, Hi Tradescant"

"Fuck off Altman"

Zoe was bristling.

Helen was sipping her drink, attempting to disappear.

"You coming again hot lips?"

Oh for fucks sake, Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine's timing was spot on perfect.

"Umm"

Zoe smiled spitefully, the girl had set her hair straight, pulled her skirt round the right way.

Helen could see she was glowing with pleasure, post coital pink supplied tax free, from Mr Phillip Altman.

Helen was too, all in her head, just from the hooded, enraged, aroused look in his eyes, that's all it took for Helen.

A look.

Remember that night when you ordered the noise cancelling headphones, spending half your week's allowance just to drown him out?

Remember how dirty he made you feel?

Remember how you couldn't cum unless you thought of him above you?

That new vibrator was rubbish.

There was no substitute fo' real.

Phillip was oh so fo' real.

Helen wanted to slap that bitch on his arm, round the face, kick her arse out the bar, twist that long brunette hair around her fingers and pull, right out into the street.

Except she did nothing.

Just sipped on her Mai Tai and let her friend handle it.

It was handled.

==========

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I extended it.
> 
> So what come bite me on Tumblr if you dare! I don't bite back, honest!
> 
> Which is why the chapters now have names, and cos I am such a sucker for these two Goons!
> 
> I'm currently sitting on my setee, listening to Missy Elliott, I wrote this chapter to her rapping and realised what an epic woman she is.
> 
> Helen is beginning to like R&B and modern rap at last.
> 
> Have fun my reader, cos I've just been in hysterics over chapter 17 re-jigs!
> 
> Stay Safe  
> Stay Healthy  
> Stay Creative
> 
> Morby


	10. CHAPTER EIGHT & THREE QUARTERS -  OF DATE AND WALNUT CAKE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this I hear you cry?
> 
> Phillip Altman has got off his arse and got himself a job, well I'll go to the foot of our stairs!  
> Again! (giggles)
> 
> And our Helen bless her, has had enough of the mucking around, she wants a bit of peace, she needs stability in her life.
> 
> She also needs a Spotify account cos this chapter has loads of music in it, and if you would like I can set up a list for you to enjoy - or google the damn tracks yourself - up to you Reader!
> 
> So Helen wants a rest from Mr Altman does she? Yeah right course she does... and Phillip Altman is a Choir Boy!
> 
> His Arse - a very very nice arse
> 
> Whoop Whoop That's tha sound of da Police!

Everything you've done is for you, only moving the stars for things you want for yourself.

Cruel eyes;

Cruel smile;

Cruel to yourself, to Helen.

A heartbeat that only she can maintain by smiling at you, 

Stroking your hair.

Squeezing tops of your arms as she kisses you;

So long;

So deep;

So needy;

So distracted;

So fucking desparate for you, god damn it man you have it; 

So bad.

Her nails biting into the flesh of your neck, a scratch against your goateed chin and her eyes meet yours.

She's looking right into you Phillip.

She sees what you really are, and doesn't want to know anymore.

Stephen pulls her away by the cord of her bathrobe.

Helen opens it wide and Stephen sinks to his knees.

"I can't live without you Helen"

Phillip tells the dark apartment with tears in his eyes.

Oh dear;

Yuk;

There's the sentiment again.

It's so clawingly affectionate, hardly practical. 

It's been two months and Phillip still can't get the bad taste of that night out of his mouth. 

That fucking eat out at the bar left him with a problem, and not the one that the doctor helped him clear up with a short course of pessaries and antibiotics.

But denial.

Phillip had told himself a terrible lie.

That it had never happened.

That it wasn't him, picking out pubic hair from his teeth as he drove himself angrily home that night, after leaving Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine high and dry.

After seeing Helen standing there, propping up the bar, a Mai Tai in her hand, sniggering at him as he pulled the toilet roll from his trousers.

A terrible lie, it wasn't him standing there.

Helen hadn't seen him.

It was someone else.

How many women had he betrayed?

Helen must have been waiting for Stephen.

**IN HIS FAVOURITE DRESS!**

He was gonna kill him.

He was gonna rip the bastard apart.

He did nothing

Like he always did.

==========

The first day at his new job.

A mixture of excitement, relief and expectation.

He spotted Helen walking from the Library.

He had half a mind to offer her a lift home.

He could do very well on half a mind, he never bothered using it all at the same time, not until today when he found the job he'd wangled, would take up a great deal of his time, his energy, and his intellect.

Memory played him false and turned the screw.

Phillip had slid Helen's birthday card under her door that glorious May afternoon in anticipation of a kiss, nothing else.

A kind word of thanks, maybe a cup of coffee and a sit down, a friendly chat, normal, domestic.

Nothing expected of him.

Stephen had opened his door.

Phillip smelt the defeat, the cavalry over the hill coming to rescue the damsel from the evil prince's clutches. He knew that he never really stood any chance with Helen, a cup of coffee and a slice of cake.

And he knew why.

Because what was Phillip at that time?

Unemployed.

No prospect of getting a job unless he got up off his ass and found one. 

Foolish, lazy and ineffective.

He looked into the face of Phillip Altman one hot morning and asked him what he wanted out of his life?

"What do you want to achieve, should you use your intelligence and try for a job in the new Ad Agency, from the city, settled in town, in that huge new Architectural Digest building, just down the street from the University?"

Taking the best, the cream of the graduates into it's programs to find the next Leo Burnett or David Ogilvy?

And he'd done it.

Had the lanyard around his neck to prove it.

A well paid internship at the Agency, underneath a Mr Derek Cornish, to learn the business, to research the customer base and learn how to exploit it fully.

He knew how to exploit very well indeed.

So why was he feeling left behind, disheartened?

Serotonin from masturbation lasted a little longer than Tracy had when she was in his arms.

Oh you spiteful son of a bitch!

Are you blaming her for your own inadequacies?

How dare you!

She used you of course, handing over your therapy to another, as she found herself falling for you. 

_ 'How magnanimous'  _

Helen would say.

Phillip was a younger, vulnerable man, attractive, funny. 

She should have left you alone.

Tracy had to see what lay underneath your suit, if you were really made of stone, chiseled marble, strong smooth and hard.

Your place or mine?

Tracy said she wanted an adult, that she could be good for you, help you realise your potential.

Liar.

She wanted a boy with a motorised dick, like they all did. 

And she'd tell all her girlfriends, the lunching ladies, over Prosecco cocktails, about how good you were in bed, how great you were at giving head. How your childhood experiences hadn't fucked you up entirely, and how much she had to thank your fucking mother for, getting her to where she was now!

Bitch.

With a PhD.

The Frog Prince, she kissed you and turned you into what she thought you wanted. She didn't really love you, only the idea of you. Showering you with gifts as if you were a pet, a project.

An object.

Your Sugar Mommy, she did that.

You had nothing to do with that now, did you Phillip?

What did you ever do to them to deserve such treatment?

Helen never wanted to know did she, and at least she was honest with you. 

Why didn't she care?

You can leave the bitterness behind Phillip, because even though she'll never be your friend you can have no regrets.

You haven't used Helen.

Much.

She hasn't allowed you to.

So he wondered if perhaps a stroll to pick up a bag of cinnamon rolls from the bakery, pop into the bookshop three doors down tomorrow morning, sit in his usual seat and treat himself to a slice of cake at the coffee shop Consuela had added last month in the back of the store.

A celebration;

For one;

For getting yourself the new job.

You arrogant selfish son of a bitch!

You ruined her celebration of her new job.

You bastard

You thoughtless, self centred, soulless vagina user.

How could you?

American Idiot.

Crawl away

Go on crawl like the worm you are

Maybe you can find that copy of M. R. James that Helen loved so much.

Maybe you'd spot a tasty bit of rough that you could bring home.

And pretend was Helen.

Apologise.

She'd have to live up to a long list of requirements.

Hard to get 

Argumentative and Awkward

British (which is kinda the same thing)

Tall, Blonde, Clever;

Spiteful

Caring and real.

Phillip please! 

Cuddle up to a pillow when you sleep, cuddle something and pretend, comfort yourself, try not to cry.

It's only the rest of your life you have to face.

Alone.

==========

Helen had also found a place to face the rest of her life alone.

Just off Albany Avenue.

It had a garden, shared, but it was slightly further out of town, 

Cheaper.

Bigger.

It was also an unknown address. 

She'd only given Consuela and Zoe her details. 

Oh and work of course, for her pay cheques.

The cloud she'd been living under cleared, and now, as she listened to her radio in the cleared up scrubby patch of garden, she felt safer.

Clean.

Calm.

Sometimes a catastrophe was needed to get you to where you wanted to go. 

This was a nicer part of town, the neighbours weren't randy French fishermen who were too forward. 

She had an old couple above her and a single mum underneath. 

She'd introduced herself, shared the sweet treats she'd found stockpiled in a cupboard with the little boy downstairs and helped the old couple upstairs tune in their new digital television.

Happy?

No.

But content and that's almost the same thing.

Almost.

==========

Some Things never come, nothing ever satisfies, but sometimes she'd catch a glimpse as Phillip pulled that incredible machine of his into the car park of the highrise on the road to her work.

She'd be walking by and hear his hip hop blaring out of the speakers.

Mystikal's 'Shake ya Ass'

Cam'ron's 'Oh Boy'

Missy Elliott's 'Lose Control'

_ I've got a cute face, chubby waist, thick legs, in shape _

_ Rump shaking both ways, make you do a double take _

_ Plan rocker show stopper, Flo propper head knocker _

_ Beat staller tail dropper, do ma thing motherfuckers _

_ Ma Rolls Royce Lamborghini, Blue madina always beaming _

_ Rag top chrome pipes, blue lights outta sight _

_ No me sow it in _

_ Set it in sow it in _

_ Make that money tho it in _

_ Booty bouncing goin' hit _

And that banging tune had Helen's hips swaying seductively as she walked the rest of the way to work. Imagining Phillip standing behind her, rocking hips together, chin on her shoulder.

"Cos Mr Altman says sooooo"

Strong arms around her waist.

She smiled as she put her bag in her locker and resumed her shift behind the counter of 'Returns and Enquiries.'

Stephen Burtynsky had thankfully left her alone.

There had been one or two run in's with the 'Man with the Golden Rod' as the Freshman girls had named him in spite, she'd put him down as easy as swatting a fly.

She had no trouble telling him to piss off.

She would feel sorry for him if she had time.

She would feel pity for him if she had a heart.

She could not forget the sounds that woman was making in the bathroom stall with Phillip, showing her how she, deserved, to have it all.

Helen felt eyes on her as she left work, heard Phillip's distant thrum, Q-Tip's 'Vivrant Thing' in the distance.

She could feel the urge, hot, in her legs, the mind overtaken by the heart to pound the floor, run to the lights at the end of Barber and Lang, the intersection delaying him long enough for her to catch up.

She walked sedately;

Slowly; 

Down the street.

Had he seen her in his rearview mirror?

She got home that night knowing he had, a curl of those luscious lips, disdainful, disappointed and wanting to punish.

On his way to pick up his Sugar Mommy.

Or that fast and loose girl from the bar, why did the ones with no filter always get what they wanted, why could Helen never have what she wanted?

Resentment building.

No longer thinking of how foolish he'd been in his pursuit of her, how clever it had been, putting those notes in her pockets. 

Casting his Runes against her.

She still had them, stuck into the books she bought with the $150.

A book on Zaha Hadid, Taschen, slippery silver and lime green, and 'The Beastie Boys Book' which had her roaring with laughter.

The courting of Helen Tradescant has been brought to you by; 

Montague Rhodes James.

The undisputed king of Victorian Gothic Horror.

==========

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months have passed.
> 
> Helen still see's Phillip sometimes, but she doesn't look out for him like she did. She's over him, through with him.
> 
> Phillip and his Shugar Mommy can go to hell, her heart is empty and she needs to get on with her life, such as it is.
> 
> Phillip has been busy, his job is becoming more interesting and exciting, he's doing well, on speaking terms with his brother and trying hard to make friends who don't want Benefits.
> 
> And yet...
> 
> It's just not enough...
> 
> A Cup of Coffee and a Friend he never knew he had should come in very welcome.
> 
> Don't you think?

How many months can the human body endure slow torture?

According to Helen Tradescant it's three months.

According to Phillip Altman it's only three minutes.

_ Can't you hear my motor car? _

_ Cos you're the one that's started it. _

==========

Phillip was looking for a book called 'Ogilvy on Advertising'

Helen knew where it was, had his ticket of request, as she walked down the stairs with it in her hand, she saw Phillip standing by her desk.

Waiting.

Fuck it he looked incredible;

Lanyard around his neck.

A tether.

Are you human, or did I make you up?

==========

"Hey, Mr Deets?"

The Knight in Shiny Drip Dry.

"Hey Hels, whats up?"

She hardly ever used his christian name, he always dreamt one day she would.

"Mark, could you pop this to Carey at the desk, I must nip to the ladies"

"Sure Hels... you okay?"

He felt warm.

He needed her to say it again.

"Fine thanks Mark, I just drank too much tea at breakfast."

Shoving the commentary on advertising into Mr Deets overburdened arms, she carefully made for the only place she felt safe.

Phillip never saw her.

Helen you coward.

You can't avoid him forever.

Can you?

==========

Mr Deets made mad love to his wife that night. 

Mrs Deets didn't know what hit her as he slammed her against the back of the bedroom door, nose in her neck, hand in her bra, the other in her trousers.

Kids fast asleep.

Mr Mark Deets screamed Mrs Gemma Deets name as he came, and Gemma Deets tried to catch her breath as her orgasm arrived just afterwards. 

On silken, latex wings.

Husband between her legs;

Panting.

Hard.

The world turning anyway.

They stayed in bed all night, innocence lost into the dark.

If Mark was dynamite;

Gemma was the spark.

"I want you."

He whispered on the pillow.

And Gemma giggled.

==========

Phillip spoke to Paul. 

Mommy was now in Germany. 

"So how's the run around?"

"Flying like a bird"

"Had any pussy in the back yet, asshole?"

Now why do you think Phillip looked shocked?

He loved eating girls out in the backs of cars, it was how he'd started his sexual career.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're kiddin me right?" 

Paul smirked at Baby Bro who looked embarrassed and annoyed.

Of course Phillip hadn't any pussy in the back of a Jaguar E, it was a classic car for fucks sake. He had some respect for the British designed machine he'd run out and purchased with some of the money Paul had given him as he bought him out of the family business.

The store now belonged, in its entirety;

To Paul Altman.

And you thought the car was a girlfriend gift right?

Wrong!

==========

Ha Ha Ha

I'm still laughing!

Giggling

He'd not gone steady with anyone for years.

Preferring cheap talk and fly by nights.

Suffocated by commitment.

Ha Ha Ha

hO hO hO

==========

I feel the blood sting as stars fall in your eyes, surrounding you with pain and peace and all you want to do is tear it down around you. You want to run your car down the hill into traffic just to see how it feels.

You want the excitement of the chase.

You want to know you can feel something again.

Not this cold, rythmic boredom people live with day after day week after week year after fuckin year.

You like your new well paid job; 

The receptionist is cute and into you;

But one day you'd like to place a bomb in the building and set it off, just to hear the noise it made, just to see the blast wave, feel it knock you down, see how it vaporizes the buildings around it.

You in the centre of the chaos.

Frosty sky above you. 

Twinkling stars and you know deep down that the world is a;

Beautiful; 

Wonderful; 

Terrible place.

You know that you're only the tiniest particle in the solar system. 

And your hurt feelings and despair of never being loved or lovable is nothing in comparison to what is going on in the world.

But you don't feel any better off knowing someone else feels worse.

Is it a trick?

Or Treat?

Life's waiting for you to join it again.

Phillip Altman.

==========

"Well that came around quickly this year."

Consuela thought Helen was looking pale and tired as she searched for a new copy of 'The Spy Who Came In From The Cold' by John Le Carre at her bookstore on Bishop Street.

They didn't have one in stock would she like to order?

"No thanks Connie, it's only to replace my old one, he fell apart on me last night, I broke his spine the first week I had it, I knew it would lead to his early demise"

"You make me laugh Hels... as if books were sentient"

"Aren't they?"

"You do love your books."

"They are some of my best friends, you can fall in love with a book and it won't break your heart, you can replace it easily, books don't hurt you like people do."

Phillip knew that was totally, utterly wrong.

Stories can break your heart.

They stung.

They split lips.

"Our costumes came, you're gonna laugh your ass off, I tossed the coin and got Hyde, Zoe is Jekyll."

Helen began to giggle girlishly, such a pretty sound that Phillip wanted to bottle for when he felt lonely.

"Mine's all ready, all I had to do was pull the bottom hem in."

"And the wig?" 

"In a charity shop, went in to pick up a new teapot, there it was on the dummy in the window, I'm gonna feel like a dummy when I wear it though."

Again the laughter; 

Phillip had to lean against the bookshelf; 

Ears burning;

Heart racing.

She sounded beautiful when she wasn't angry at him.

"There's my bus... see you soon Connie"

"See you Hels... don't forget to feed Cleopatra!"

Helen was laughing as the doorbell tinkled, she walked quickly to the bus stop.

He brought out his phone when he'd collected himself, tapped in Cleopatra, of course the Egyptian queen came up, that explained the wig.

And before you ask what the hell was Phillip doing stalking Helen again, let me just point out, the bookshop Consuela managed/part owned, was on his street, three doors down from his apartment. 

Phillip loved Helen's smile, adored her giggle.

"You heard all that, didn't you Mr Altman?"

Consuela knew he'd been there, she knew he'd been watching, so she'd done it back.

"Hello Mrs Calderera"

Smarmy sod.

"You gonna buy that or..."

Phillip clutched at a copy of Phillip K. Dick's 'The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch' as if it were a bible, covering his heart.

"Oh yeah, um yes please..."

He took out his credit card as Consuela rang it up on her register.

"Have you tried the rest of Dick's work?"

Phillip had to think about that for a moment, was she trying to be amusing, or serious, by the look on her face he couldn't be sure.

"I meant the author you fool"

"Oh, no, this is my first"

He shuffled his feet under her gaze, she had the most piercing dark brown eyes. Hair wavy black and pulled back into a smart ponytail.

"Maybe you would like to try some of his short stories too?"

Phillip was ready with a smart comment, then bit it back. She was upselling, his firm had described the methods retail outlets attempted to boost revenue. Sell to the suckers, give them more than they needed.

"Does he do shorts too?"

"He did yeah, before he died, hundreds and some really odd ones, I remember reading one called 'Cadbury, the Beaver Who Lacked', a real peculiarity"

"That sounds fuckin nuts!"

"It was all about this beaver who went to see a psychiatrist"

"Sounds familiar"

"Yeah but you read into it, it's not really a beaver at all, it's more of an analogy for a white collar worker with a wife who wants him to change, it's really good... we have it if you're interested."

"Sure"

What else did he have to do nowadays, apart from read? 

He watched surprised and pleased as Consuela tripped from behind the counter and walked him to the Science Fiction Section, she lifted her hand and pointed to their special Dick Shelf.

"It was Helen's idea, we have an author a week featured, sometimes it's because a film adaptation is on the tv or multiplex, or an anniversary of birth or death. We've done quite well with that idea."

Phillip knew movie tie in's sold, although there were some purists who prefered art on the covers of their books than the face of the leading man or woman of the movie.

Anyone ever read "The Beach?"

You would never catch a man reading a book with Leonardo DiCaprio on the front.

"Here you are Phillip, there are lots to choose from, but the one with that story in is this"

She took it off the shelf, flicked to the contents page.

"Yep, page 309... try it, you might like 'We Can Remember It For You Wholesale' too, if it's familiar come back in and tell me what film you think they made from it, betcha can't guess!"

Phillip had it in his hand, turned it over and smiled as the Argentinian beauty patted his arm and pushed past, leaving him in the warm downlight.

Standing in front of one of Helen's ideas, he read the quotes on the inside cover, sniggered as the films 'Blade Runner', 'A Scanner Darkly', and 'Total Recall' were detailed. 

"I'll take these too please Consuela?"

"Hey Phillip, course you can, I see you have your little perch at the bottom of my store, you always look so comfortable, I often wonder what you're thinking, you look a million miles away sometimes."

Despite her dislike, Consuela had watched him for three months, looking tired after work, drawn out, head bowed. He always ordered the same thing from the barista in the back, sat in the large sherlock with the yellow cushion, reading, mellowing out with Goldfrapp on the stereo.

A different book each time, just like someone else she knew.

"It's nice down there, I don't get so distracted, I can concentrate, I hope you don't mind, I always bring my own books, I don't use yours"

He added quickly, we all know someone who reads the papers while they are still in the grocery store.

"I don't mind, I've had a few people asking after what you're reading, I think I've sold about $1000 worth of books off your back, so next time you come in, the coffee and cake is on us, okay?"

"You still do that coconut cake?"

"Zoe does yes"

"The one with the lemon icing?"

"I shall ask her to pop one in the oven when I get home, is it your favourite?"

"It is, I love it with a cup of black Sri Lankan"

Phillip had made a lady friend.

At last

Platonic

And reassuring.

He could do it after all.

Although he would like to run his hands through that glossy black mane of hers.

Just to check

If it were as soft as it looked.

===============

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dragging my feet, I love these characters too much and I don't want to let them go. But stories move on, they move at their own pace and as I was a little down when I wrote this last chapter I'm afraid it shows.
> 
> It's difficult for me to say how writing this has affected me, I know It's been a bloody rollercoaster, and I'm still nervous about posting chapters. 
> 
> I hope you liked the bombshell I dropped!
> 
> Helen isn't gonna know what hit her soon!
> 
> Love Morby
> 
> PS: If you get chance to try Phillip K. Dick - don't for gods sake do what Phillip does - start with the short stories instead... "Minority Report" and "The Father Thing" are good starting blocks in my opinion. 
> 
> "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch" is one of Morby's faves which is why I included it... it is NOT a book to start your appreciation of P. K. Dick with - trust me!


	12. CHAPTER NINE AND A BITE FROM UNCLE NIC NACK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was once an Egyptian Mummy  
> Who though his jokes terribly funny  
> He sat in her chair  
> Admiring her hair  
> Deep in love eating cake that was Yummy

Spooky music alert...  _ ahhhhhhoooohhhhhhh _

Oh help no please not... 

_ They did the Monster Mash! _

_ The Monster Mash _

_ It was a graveyard smash _

_ They did the mash _

_ It caught on in a flash _

Oh hang on it's been changed;

The Time Warp?

That's even worse;

_ So put your hands on your hips _

_ And bend your knees in time _

_ Then do the pelvic thrust _

This was like every rubbish children's birthday party she'd ever gone to.

Except the lawn was covered in pumpkins and candy skulls. 

Little lights twinkling in the gourds, the smell of burning flesh, kids causing merry hell further down the block, demanding sweets with menaces dressed as Mini Monsters. 

Dora The Explorer weilding a cudgel!

What problems did that kid have at school she'd wondered, tottering unsteadily, out of the taxi, the driver sniggering as she passed him her fare.

"Happy Halloween Mrs Addams"

"Thank you Thing, you're such a handful!"

The driver sped off laughing. 

Helen shuffled up the path, a stomach full of dutch courage, the sounds of a party oozed out of the windows.

Loud music and laughter. 

Buzzing the bell, it wasn't answered, so she tottered again around the back, tottering to inspect the garden, which, to her surprise, wasn't in such bad shape and now full of Prince Prospero's guests all dancing in 'The Masque of The Red Death'.

People she recognised from work and the bookstore were tending the barbeque, dancing to the party playlist, huddled around the beer dustbin, full of cold water and cans of beer chatting.

"Hiya Hels... Morticia's arrived... Zoeeeeeee!"

Mrs Deets was dressed as a Mina Harker, her little brood running around the lawn, a mini werewolf pack chasing each other under the orange and purple fairy lights.

Hoping to find a can of cider she fished around in the water butt, pulled up her long black sleeves, held up her long black wig and dived into deep black water.

"Well, that's a very nice ass"

"Sorry what?"

Helen turned to watch as a vampire glided away from her, bowing and apologising, it was Mr Deets. 

"Sorry Helen, I thought for a moment you were Gemma"

"I'll take the compliment... thanks Count Mark The Impaler"

And winked at him.

All this observed from afar. 

Could a linen wrapped top to toe costume look amused? 

It sat in Helen's birthday chair, legs akimbo, sipping on coke and rum.

Sniggering.

Breathing in a huge gulp of courage, holding back from flying out of its chair, it watched as Zoe and Consuela burst out the back door singing to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

_ Off with your head _

_ Dance till your dead _

_ Heads will roll _

_ Heads will roll _

_ Heads will roll _

_ On the floor _

Helen shuffled, slinky hip dance steps, hands above her head, towards the two of them dressed in suits and top hats, Zoe even sported a monocle. 

They looked hysterical.

_ Glitter on the wet streets _

_ Silver over everything _

_ The rivers all wet _

_ You're all chrome _

The three ladies were dancing, under the tree, full of paper skulls and pumpkin lanterns as if the last year had never happened, they were the Three Horseman again, and happy. 

Zoe was tipsy and whipping her dreds.

Consuela had her wife's lipstick all over her cheeks.

Helen was laughing and trying to stand upright, she'd tied the hem of Morticia's dress a little too tight.

Yet with blood red lipstick and pale makeup, wig and painted nails she looked incredible, felt it too as the rest of the house brought the stereo into the garden and the party started afresh.

"You look amazin Connie"

"Thanks sweetie pie... off with your head!"

"Dance till you're dead!"

Shouted Zoe.

Helen's hips swaying to the beat, someone passed her a drink, taking it without thinking, she took a deeper draft, continued to dance as The Mummy wandered towards her, swaying from side to side.

It was moaning like Christopher Lee after a bad night's sleep, it was so funny, the dirty spider covered wrappings were trailing after them on the floor.

"Uncle Nic Nack's Summer Wardrobe?"

"Grrr" 

Playful Mummy, it's arms trying to catch her around the waist, Helen danced away laughing, tasting the rum and almond on her tongue.

"You wanna dance with me like no one's watching?"

"Ummm Humm  _ grrrooowlllll _ " 

The Mummy said as Morticia shuffled a circle around it, trying to pull the wrappings off its waist and legs, then tightening them till they were so confused, all the Mummy could do was sway.

Which was what the Undead were supposed to do.

Right?

He was being laughed at by the group, giggled at by the girls and the kids, his tall shadow cast in the red light of the patio heater.

The Mummy didn't care.

"Crazy fool, who raised you from the dead?"

Helen giggled into her Mai Tai. 

The Mummy pointed to it's mouth and groaned.

_ "Drriiinnnkkkkkkkkk" _

Helen popped a straw into her glass, then held it to his mouth. 

The music had changed to The Pharcyde's "Soul Flower"

The Mummy took it between a gap in it's mask, put up a thumb in appreciation, as it settled it's other bandage wrapped paw on her waist, and rubbed her hip, suggestively.

"Hey now don't get fresh... I'm a married woman!"

"Awwwww nooooo  _ grrroowlllll _ "

That Mummy sounded so forlorn and lonely. 

Hanging it's head comically to the side. 

Arms slowly swinging backwards and forwards began to walk away, its trail of cobwebs making Mrs Addams giggle uncontrollably.

The Mummy turned slowly, shuffled back to her side, rested it's head on her shoulder and moaned; 

Deep and long.

"Aww you've been so lonely shut up in your sarcophagus for thousands of years, shall we give those bandages an airing, you could do with a re-wrap, they're a bit threadbare in places"

She checked the figure out; 

Especially its arse.

Purty perky.

Arse.

That Mummy!

_ Was a very naughty Mummy. _

It's dried up, withered heart, beat stronger than it had for three months.

"You're wearing your best bandages tonight, very dashing, must've known I was coming!"

"Ahh erghhhhh... woah"

The Mummy was trying hard to stay upright after Morticia smiled, instead of a shuffle it fell into a group of characters who worked in Library Records, agreeing to come as The Dinner Party from 'Beetlejuice'

The Deet's Werewolves howled and laughed, blowing loud raspberries as The Mummy staggered to its feet, then aping his movements as Zoe and Consuela refilled people's drinks from the cooler.

"Sorry... It's his first outing in 3000 years, he's got Coffin Pins and Needles!"

Helen holding the Mummy up on her hip, cracked the joke as Gemma Deets took the photographs and the dinner party began to perform 'The Banana Boat Song' spontaneously.

Mr Mummy had his arm around Mrs Addams giggling shoulders, it had even attempted to sneak a quick kiss as Helen batted it playfully away.

"Do we have an Uncle Fester... I hope we have a Gomez?"

Helen wondered as the University students who lived in shared houses in the neighbourhood picked up the party vibes, brought along their own food and beverages and swelled the party from 20 guests to 50;

That there might be a Mr Addams among them?

A tall, well built;

Slim and ripped; 

Mr Addams.

She'd seen his car parked down the street;

Had passed it in her taxi.

Phillip Altman.

6ft 3.

Dark hair. 

Winning smile.

Ready to be called 'Boubulla'

By another slimmer, prettier, wealthier Morticia hanging on his arm!

"Je ferais mieux de ne pas utiliser de français ce soir, n'est-ce pas?"

_ ["I'd better not use any French tonight had I?"] _

The Thrift Shop Morticia pulled at the hem of her dress, revealing a wonderful view down the front. 

The Mummy averted its eyes in shock, gave her an arm to keep her steady as she adjusted the skirt, stunned by her accent, he knew exactly what she'd said.

The bodice was hugging all the right curves.

The black wig was brushing the ground.

Helen could speak fluent; 

Gorgeous; 

Parisien accented French.

How?

Did he really not know anything about her at all?

The Mummy swallowed dust and cobwebs, head swimming.

"Hmm  _ yyuuuummmyyy muuummmyyyyy _ "

It began to sway suggestively to ''Passin' Me By' by Pharcyde.

Jerky and awkward, just right for the swaddled up dude who really had the right idea when it came to his costume. 

It covered everything, and revealed a tall and toned physique;

Underneath. 

Helen was flattered; 

Pleased to find another friend at the party, Zoe and Consuela had each other tonight, and although the thought of them leaving her behind was stinging;

They looked so happy. 

Anyway she had her hands full right now, this Mummy was so funny, she felt comfortable in it's company, almost at home.

But the costume was so hot to wear. 

He'd much rather be in Mr Addam's pinstripe sharp suit. 

Stood next to Helen's low cut, long black body hugging number, to kiss her hair, run his lips up and down her arms as she spoke French, sweeping her off her feet to Tango into the early hours.

Yet the Mummy would not have changed it's ancient, mouse nibbled, dusty wrappings for all the Tea in England.

It was just right.

Ecstatic that his Google Search had led him down the entirely wrong road.

Cleopatra was the name of Morticia's pet African Strangler plant, no wonder Helen had laughed at that odd remark of Consuela's in the store.

Well fate lends a hand; 

Sometimes.

Mrs Addams and Mr Mummy were getting on; 

Like a house on fire.

_ Wrowl _

_ ========== _

"I think Morticia's adopted a new member of the family Zoe... Zoooeee, sleepy head?"

She was nodding into the bush at the side of the steps into the garden. They'd sat together to watch the party having a great time. 

Some neighbourhood kids had helped polish off the finger food, some taking home slices of Zoe's giant Lemon Iced Coconut cake, someone kind and bookish from the store had requested she make that for tonight, and the remains were now being fed;

Morsel by morsel;

To the requester;

To The Mummy.

Who had his head in Morticia's lap. 

Lying prostrate on the damp grass, under the tree, in the corner of the garden.

Seventh Heaven.

Utopia.

"Con... who's the Mummy?"

Said a very happy Zoe, snuggling into Consuela's neck.

"Oh, just a last minute invite of mine."

"I thought it could be Kwame from the store"

"No he's Edward, he came with Jacob... they're slow dancin..." 

Consuela pointed to a knot of people swaying to the lowered music, they were swaying past eleven.

"Oh okay... who's The Mummy again?"

Zoe was a forgetful drunk.

"Stop worrying, can I get a kiss from those sugar lips?"

Zoe was drifting off on her wife's shoulder. 

Full of cake; 

And happiness.

And Phillip Altman was a bad boy.

Phillip Altman was a  _ very _ bad boy.

Phillip Altman was enjoying being fed cake by the woman who haunted his dreams. 

He'd been brave enough to take her fingers in his mouth, kissing the tips, tasting her Lemon Coconut Almond Rum tang, his loins on fire as Helen giggled and licked his spit from her fingers.

Helen Tradescant had no idea it was Phillip Altman. 

Otherwise; 

And this was the only thing which was taking the edge off his joy;

That Helen would run a mile if she knew he had his head resting, very comfortably, in her soft, warm, lap.

An occasional moan if he needed a drink;

Or more cake. 

If he needed his bandages attending to. 

Some had come loose as he danced closer with Mrs Addams, who thankfully hadn't found her husband, but had seen Pugsley, Wednesday and Cousin It collecting candy from the back garden gate.

Helen loved giving The Mummy her kindest attention. 

It had made the guests collapse with laughter. 

Wandering around slowly. 

Shuffling its feet. 

Long legs taut and jerky. 

Groaning and scaring the kids into fits of giggles as it chased them around the flower beds, with its arms outstretched.

It had stood behind Magenta talking to Riff-Raff by the wine cooler for a full five minutes. Helen had recognised the Copy Repair man and Alex from the Computer Centre, she'd no idea they were a couple!

The Mummy;

Hadn't done; 

Anything. 

No noise. 

Just stood there, arm by its sides, head bowed.

But when Magenta turned around.

Helen had almost wet herself laughing, Magenta jumped out of her skin as Riff-Raff did the dying fly behind them.

The Mummy was so much fun as Magenta thrashed it away with her riding crop.

He'd disappear for a while, then he'd be back at Morticia's side as if by magic, dancing to Slick Rick's 'Street Talkin' and making the beat and bass really work for him.

Getting closer and closer.

Cradling her backwards onto his hips with his smooth moves and pops.

That Mummy had Snake Hips.

Naughty; 

Badly behaved; 

Sneaky  _ sexy  _ Mummy!

As the night built up.

The music got louder.

The Halloween Party was a blast. 

Helen didn't want it to end.

Helen wanted the Mummy to unravel.

Just;

For

Her.

==========

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been wanting to share this bloody awesome chapter with you all for a whole bloody flaming MONTH -
> 
> I had a blast writing it and had to chop it in two - but I hope it will begin to call in all those little theories and hopes that my readers have been asking me about.
> 
> Put on some creepy music, or use the tracks I've added to the story - up to you of course, they helped me to set the scene and describe the way the characters were feeling and acting. 
> 
> I especially recommend "Heads Will Role" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs...
> 
> I've been to Halloween Parties, but never met anyone who was brave enough to take me on like this!
> 
> I've been thinking about Phillip and Helen, as I did my ironing this morning I wondered if perhaps the roles are starting to reverse. 
> 
> Phillip is becoming more reserved and responsible, thinking of others before he thinks of himself. Getting a job, getting his life together and acting a little like Helen did in the beginning, on his own, distancing himself from people and reading in a chair in a quiet corner.
> 
> And Helen is becoming, well... more forward, frivolous, assertive and reckless, just as Phillip was at the beginning, she wants things, she wants to feel something, experience, touch, taste take what she wants.
> 
> Out of the shadow of her former boyfriend, out of the shadow of men that she knows are no good for her, why should she throw herself at a man she doesn't know?
> 
> Is she reckless, or does she have a suspicion deep down who is under the wrapping?
> 
> Wish Fulfilment?
> 
> I would love to know what you think, maybe I'm reading too much into this, the story was started as a bit of fun (and someone the other day said to me that my writing reminded them of Phoebe Waller-Bridge) and I am vastly tickled by the compliment.
> 
> I'm watching Villanelle kick the ass out of her ' Russian Playmates' in that scrubby little blue van and I'm tearing up. 
> 
> I think its because it's a similar style of humour, I'm certainly not as good as her writing. 
> 
> Apologies for the rubbish French - its from Google Translate - if some kind person wants to correct it for me and let me know? I would be very grateful.
> 
> I hope you are enjoying this non the less....  
> Love Morby


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Halloween parties come to an end, even the ones that you are really enjoying. 
> 
> The people form groups and depart in taxi's - they mingle at the bottom of the driveway and disturb the neighbours at stupid o'clock in the morning.  
> Dressed as Nun's - Novices - Chainsaw wielding Psychopaths - maybe they came in their work clothes? 
> 
> Maybe they just came in a white sheet with holes for eyes, or perhaps the sexy nurse on the back seat of the truck, sleeping off too many cocktails, is actually the woman who serves you your coffee at the little place on the High Street?
> 
> The Mummy doesn't care, he knows how he is gonna get home, and he knows who will be joining him in the Sarcophagus, who he wants to swaddle in bandages of her own, to unwrap, to tease, to taste and end his wonderful night with a kiss.
> 
> Maybe even more than that - if The Mummy wants to press it's advantage. 
> 
> Trouble is, he's not given himself away, at all, only one person knows he's at the party, and Helen is gonna freak when she finds out she's been set up.
> 
> By her best friends wife!

  
  


The music was low and Brand Nubian, 'Don't Let It Go To Your Head'.

The house looked like a glitter bomb had exploded, setting off a chain reaction which had taken down the whole house in a storm of streamers; 

Fake skeletons;

Cardboard coffins; 

Plastic funeral flowers.

Candy Skulls grinned from the windows, half melted candles leaving greasy puddles on every surface, the place smelt of pumpkin spice, cooking burgers, warm cheap plastic and bonfire smoke.

Helen had gotten tangled in a large fake cobweb suspended above the kitchen doorway as The Mummy tried to stop itself having a laughing fit. She now had a family of plastic spiders taking up residence in the thrift store wig which she was considering keeping.

The Mummy couldn't stop stroking it.

A comforting sensation. 

All night had been spent with;

Or close to; 

That body. 

Dancing, eating or drinking, sitting together on the wet grass as he communicated in groans and moans.

It was hysterical.

Morticia was kind to the Mummy. 

Morticia was kind to everyone.

Especially tonight, the Mummy had enjoyed her tickles and whispered sweet nothings.

Helen was dying to ask who it was; 

Underneath.

She knew it wasn't Stephen. 

Helen had been warned that his new squeeze had him down 'The Clinic' getting checked out. Too many fish, and not enough plastic netting had spoilt the rutting season for that selfish, opportunistic twat.

Lucky Helen, her spider sense was switched on and working well.

That Mummy was so funny though. 

He'd collapsed into her old armchair in the front room window, exhausted and giggling, coming slowly undone, unwrapping, unravelling at last.

Were the Undead supposed to giggle?

Helen found her way through the departing hoards of; 

Vampires 

And Vampire Hunters!

Werewolves 

Not Swearwolves! 

Zombies

Several Zombies!

To stand behind her old chair. 

Sitting on the arm rest, Helen was startled as a bandaged arm snuck around her waist and pulled her gently into its lap.

In a flurry of tipsy giggles she batted The Mummy playfully around the head.

"Now now what did I say... I'm a married lady... don't go getting all handsy now!"

"Hmmm...  _ commmffffooorrrttaaatbllllleeeeeee _ ?"

"Very Mr Mummy, a willing sacrifice sits in your lap"

Playing with Helen's hair, trying to guess what underwear she had clinging to her under the satin slinky dress, squirming as she giggled sweet music to his ears.

Helen belonged to The Mummy tonight.

"I wonder who's in there... come out to play come onnnn."

"SSsssssseeeeccrreeeeetttttt fffffrroooooommmm the  _ gggrrrrrrrrraaaaave _ "

Using painted fingernails to peek through the bandages around his face, Phillip groaned menacingly as Morticia held back, an impish grin on faded red stained Lemon Coconut sticky lips.

She was turning him on so bad.

"Oh come now, don't be shy... let me unwrap you, give you an airing"

" _ Ggggrrroooowwwlllll _ ha ha ha  _ ohhhwwwrarghhhhh _ "

Phillip couldn't help the squeak as his semi quivered under her thigh, she was tickling him, such a pleasing weight, comfortable; 

Curvy; 

Very very sexy.

Teasing him.

"Hey cheeky Mr Mummy, don't go getting all fresh again!"

Helen felt for it.

Through the padding of his costume.

With her hand;

Oh wow!

Phillip knew he shouldn't but she felt so sensual in his arms.

" _ Grrrrrr _ hmmm.....  _ WWwrrrrrrowlllll _ "

What the hell why not, Helen was in his lap, dressed for him to undress, stroke, sing her the song of his people,

So devilish; 

He couldn't handle it;

Phillip had his clothed dick, snug and comfortable, in her hand.

Helen was smiling.

He liked tipsy Helen.

He loved tipsy Helen.

He loved the view down Helen's dress, soft and silky, rolling black bra clad hills, bouncing up and down as she laughed at his moans and groans. 

Practicing for later?

He loved the fact that the grin, hurting his face, was hidden by dirty wrapped linen that Helen was asking, no insisting, he allow her to unwrap.

He wanted to let her unwrap the little silver packets in his back pocket too.

Did mummies have pockets?

This one did.

This one also had beautiful brown eyes which Helen was staring right into.

"Aww Mr Mummy won't you let me unwrap you... I can take it slow, if you'd like?"

Her bottom lip out, a pout which had him licking his lips.

_ "Wrowl grrr humpft" _

The Mummy crossed it's arms petulantly, Helen pulling the bandages at his waist instantly. Phillip wondered if that's how it felt for the women he'd fucked as he pulled at their clothes? 

"Aww Mr Mummy, don't you like me, don't you want me?"

She sounded just as he'd imagined, husky, deep sensual mad skills as his semi became more insistent, the excitement of anticipation mixed with guilt and lust. 

"You're all hot Mr Mummy, come on let me help you cool off"

When she found out who's lap she was wriggling in his life wouldn't be worth living.

He'd not make it to Hannukah.

In one piece.

And he knew which piece would be removed, as it wriggled again in her palm. God help him what the hell was he doing?

Helen was laughing at him.

He liked it.

"Mr Mummy lost your tongue, of course The Curse... they remove the tongue before they bury you alive. Damn shame, I had a job for that tongue you might've liked"

Whispered in his ear, his nose hovering above her sternum, taking his time breathing in and out. 

Phillip never imagined she'd ever talk dirty to him, not like this.

She knew full well what she was doing.

He knew full well what she was doing. 

But - 

Phillip Altman was fighting Helen Tradescant off. 

The sensation; 

Wonderful. 

So nice to be on the other side.

So fresh.

"Mr Mummy, need me to ring for your undertaker, I can take you under, if you'd like me to?"

Morticia took out her phone to call a cab. 

Good luck tonight Helen; 

Triple rate and an hour wait.

The Mummy shook its head and began to rise from the chair, unsettling her from a very comfortable, vibrating lap. She'd felt the Mummy's erection rising from the grave. 

Standing bashfully to the side and brushing the cobwebs from her dress, she felt herself pushed into something hard, broad and high. 

"Hey!"

_ "Ah haaaaa huummmmaannn fffllleeeessshhhhhh alllll mmmmmmiiiiinnnneeeee!" _

Lifted off her feet and thrown over the Mummy's shoulder, it moaned playfully as it pulled open the front door with a spare hand, leaving Helen a moment to shout her goodbye's from his Fireman's Lift.

Zoe sleepily waved from the sofa, holding Consuela's hand.

"So The Mommy's Boy returns to the grave with a willing sacrifice" 

Consuela began to stroke Zoe's leg, the guests had departed, full of treats, full of tricks.

"You still have no idea who?"

"No - I know exactly who it is, she's gonna go off like a firecracker when he gets her to his apartment, I hope he's prepared for the blast, you see the eyes she was makin at him?"

"I did, but I didn't invite him, did you?"

"Don't get mad at me honey I did, she'll be fine, now you gonna give me some shugar too?"

She wanted her friend to have one night of passion with a man she knew loved her deep down, after talking to him in her store, she could see what he covered up with his rubbish lothario act.

A kind, vulnerable and eager to please attitude, a character who thought the only way he could make friends was to bed them.

Phillip would prove The Three Horsemen wrong.

Zoe sniggered and dragged her fingers up Consuela's leg, pulling at the band of her trousers, monocle in her eye and a cheeky glint behind it.

Wondering if they'd make it up the stairs.

In time.

==========

Helen wasn't sure where The Mummy was taking her, and to her surprise;

She didn't care. 

Underneath those bandages she'd felt muscle.

Strength and softness. 

Lust.

And a cock which would not and could not be ignored.

She felt sexy, and tonight, with the help of a Morticia Bustier and three large Mai Tai's.

Feeling a familiar thump between her thighs, 

This man who had her over his shoulder;

Was in for a big surprise.

Now I'm a poet and I don't know it! 

Sorry.

Helen was ready to break all her rules, rent them asunder when she slipped out of her costume as he watched. 

One

Night 

Stand.

What she wanted and what she was gonna get.

She'd never done this before, wanted to know how it felt, to sneak out of a strangers bedroom at 4am, wearing the same clothes after being sent to the moon;

On bareback.

The Mummy shuffled slowly along the street towards it's car. 

Facing backwards, she had time to check out the other decorated houses, most with their lights off and the residents in bed. 

Which got her checking out the arse under her hands.

It was a nice arse.

A very very nice arse.

Yep indeedy.

Whoop Whoop;

The Sound of Da Police...

Familiar.

Helen slapped it playfully and the Mummy picked up his pace. Swimming in lusty recklessness, she felt him slow and stop, turn and let her down to the ground.

Leaning against the car taking a breath, laughing as the hunk under the bandages checked pockets for his car keys.

"Shit"

Helen cocked an eyebrow.

"Where the fuck did I leave them?"

The Mummy looked back towards the house in dismay, forgetting the rubbish Egyptian accent.

Helen knew who stood in front of her. 

Feeling the car under her bottom, knew it would be red. 

Cherry red. 

A cat on the bonnet.

Turning with tears in her eyes, she was leaning ripe and ready, against his Jaguar E.

Oh God

Oh No

Oh Please

No

She can't

She mustn't

She wanted to so badly she could have taken him in her mouth, over the bonnet, in the street. 

How dare he, how could he? 

Laughing all evening at Phillip Altman as he stroked her hair, danced up close and dirty, licked her fingers, tickled and rubbed her arse in his lap.

Laughing with her, not at her.

Stay focused Helen;

Don't cry Helen;

You're gonna get through this Helen, even though you've held and encouraged his erection.

The Mummy found his keys with a satisfied grumble and opened the passenger door, fully expecting her to get inside and let him whisk her away to heaven.

"Fuck off Altman"

Oh dear.

Oh no.

Caught red handed.

"Don't... please I can..."

He could see her panic. 

Sobering quickly he was astonished how fast she could run in that dress. 

He tried to keep up, his costume was a total disaster as he tripped, fell, and rolled onto the grass at the corner of the street.

Trying to get up as the unraveling bandages caught on everything, he fell again, she was too far ahead for him to catch up now. 

So he sat on the grass and pulled off the bandage mask, throwing it into the road in temper, swearing loudly, forever to associate the rancid smell of hot burnt pumpkin with the look on her face.

Disgust.

Shit shit shit shit 

**_Shiiiiittttttttt_ **

==========

Well he did want hard to get.

He did want her fighting him off.

He didn't expect her to be quite this successful.

Not after she'd been so cute, so attentive, so friendly and had smiled into his eyes, giggled at his tickling hands, laughed at his foolish behaviour and fed him with her own hand.

Sitting on the wet grass, he thumped the ground with his bandaged fists, angry at himself for fucking it up again. 

Helen was a tease.

' _ Dick tease'. _

Phillip hated those.

A pussy which tempted, let you get worked up then withdrew all sensation and watched you squirm. He'd been so fucking close, he'd been close enough to kiss her several times, hold her close, giggle closer in her ear and all he'd done was moan and groan all night.

Because it made her laugh. 

Because it made him happy to see her enjoying herself.

Because he was enjoying himself too.

But this would be the last time he'd try her patience.

He could cry if he wasn't so worked up.

Over pussy.

He never got like this over pussy.

That's all she was to him after all; 

A quick fuck in the back of a car, half drunk, horny, desparately lonely.

"Altman?"

Head in his hands, acting like a damn fool, surrounded by a Halloween diorama of Jurassic Park, he looked like a wrapped chicken wing at the feet of the cardboard T-Rex.

She'd walked back after realising she was running in the wrong direction, Helen ought to have gone to Zoe and Consuela.

On her way back she saw him, on his arse, weeping, frustrated, upset.

Phillip Altman was upset.

"Phillip?"

Swallowing aggression, he stood, collected what was left of his costume from the grass and stomped back to his car.

"Fuck off Tradescant"

Helen wasn't surprised.

He got into his car, started the engine and screamed off down the block as Missy Elliott's 'We Run This' blared out the stereo.

"Well done Morticia, you're on your own again!"

==========

Walking back to Zoe and Consuela;

Morticia was humiliated, cold and tired.

She knew what she wanted after it had been taken away, seeing him upset kicked her in the gut, hard. 

Except the dickhead already had a girlfriend.

Who hadn't been at the party.

Who hadn't materialised as Elvira. 

Or some other sleek cool sexy feminine character.

Helen had toyed (for about five seconds) with the idea of dressing as Inga from 'Young Frankenstein' finding the costume too revealing, that she'd be more comfortable with Morticia. 

And Black covered lots of weight, disguised bumps and hollows.

A forgiving colour.

Now she felt more like Frau Blucher.

_ (sound of horses neighing) _

Drumming fingers on the porch step, she sat pondering whether to sleep on the swing chair, felt her face was wet.

Phillip Altman had made her cry.

Again.

And it was all her fault.

Wasn't it?

Phillip felt so nice.

Phillip tasted so nice.

Phillip was funny and kind and stupid and everything.

On his lips lay a promise;

A promise of a kiss.

Sweet as Lemon Iced Coconut Cake, and as warm as Sri Lankan coffee, like her father used to make.

Phillip had the prettiest, deepest, sneakiest brown eyes she'd ever stared into.

And he made her laugh, made her feel silly, cheeky, sexy as his friendly stupidity lit up the evening. 

Now he was making her cry, taking the piss out of her, the whole party must've known who it was, Zoe and Consuela knew, had invited him.

How could they?

She was humiliated, degraded.

Undead.

Phillip Altman had Helen Tradescant in his back pocket and;

Wouldn't give her back.

Phillip Altman was pulling up that beautiful car onto the driveway;

And getting out.

Phillip  _ fuckin _ Altman was walking over, holding out a hand and pulling her into his chest, hugging close and not letting her go as he shivered, costume rapidly disintegrating around his ankles.

Now Helen's tears came faster.

Now Helen was so close and;

Phillip was leading her to his car willingly.

Phillip was driving her home.

Which way?

Shag Pad or Thrift Store?

Lift now arriving at Ladies Dresses, Lingerie, Hosiery, Coats, Shoes, Accessories.

Going down.

==========

I've got enough fuel in my tank to sustain one crazy night of Helen Tradescant, it's burning me up, firing all my cylinders as she sits in the car, next to me.

Crying.

Because of me.

It's not with happiness; 

It's humiliation. 

I can't do this to her;

Or myself. 

I won't find any joy in my biggest success.

It will be over in the blink of an eye.

The whole fucking party was a mistake, I knew it was, and I didn't care. 

Zoe had no clue but Connie was fine with it.

Oh god what have I done and which way do I go now?

Shall I be kind and take her home?

Shall I be cruel and take her to mine?

Left or right?

I'm the Tall Handsome Walker of The Left Hand Path.

I'm turning right.

==========

Cut your cloth to suit your purse Helen.

You won't find a good man, so you'll have to settle for what you can find. 

A disappointing piss take, who didn't get you drunk out of your mind, on your back, your legs in the air.

He'd switched your drinks to soft some time in the evening.

You're stone cold sober and you can see where his hands are.

They aren't up your frilly pink blouse.

Your red jeans aren't around your ankles.

He's driving you home.

Your home.

And you love him.

Just for that.

Better tell him your address honey sweet because; 

Lemon Iced Coconut Cake might just be an aphrodisiac.

==========

Doorsteps;

Are dangerous places.

One way or another; 

In or out; 

They lead to adventure.

So I'll ask Phillip up to the first floor.

To my apartment even though it's a comfortable dump.

My washing is on the dryer and pots are in the sink.

I've a sofa I bought at a charity shop, covered with multicoloured throws to cheer it up. Did I put my vibrator in my draw?

Phew, yes I did.

So I shall ask him up.

Of course I will.

Love is just a bloodsport after all.

And I can't let him go without thanking him for being such a gentleman!

If he even lowers himself to come up with me; 

Make love to me.

Stay with me.

==========

Reluctant?

Never! 

I don't believe it?

His costume is around his ankles (well most of his bandages are anyway) and she's fully dressed, looking awkwardly around her flat. 

There's a little green 'Spooky' neon sign lit in the window, a cardboard candy skull on the front door with an apology;

'Please help yourself from the bag'

Which was taped up (now empty) and full of a lingering smell of something Phillip thinks might be Lemon, but can't be sure.

He's hoping it is.

Because if it is he's gonna eat her alive.

Morsel by morsel.

Yummy

==========

Whisper me away from you, wake me at night to watch me fall asleep at your side, call my name then burn it into your heart as you kiss me; 

Phillip.

Like you're doing now.

Sink your hands into my flesh, mark me as yours.

Nothing you can say will change my mind.

Kiss me deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper.

That tastes divine.

You taste of burgers and coconut and coffee.

You're dreamy; 

You're overwhelming me.

I'm falling and you've opened your eyes wide and caught me, swept me up and are carrying me to my bedroom.

I'm stupid and fat and poor.

I've a shabby untidy flat and I hate myself.

I expect you to leave me before the morning, because that's what everyone tells me you do. You fuck and then you leave, you take what you want, you hit and run. 

I want that.

No really I do, because I don't need complications.

Except I do as you're peeling the dress from my shoulders, taking your time with the zip, which was, a little problematic earlier, in fact I'm surprised the dress stayed up this long. It's cheap like I am, it's hiding a good many bumps.

Which you're running your kind hands over, so gently.

I'm feeling dizzy.

You're spreading my legs.

You want me?

Seriously?

Not as much as I want you.

Dear Reader my name is Helen Tradescant and I am 'Notch Number God Knows What' on Phillip Altman's bed post.

I'm not the first and I shan't be the last. 

I hate myself so much that I'm allowing him to kiss my shoulders, god that feels good, why does it feel so good as he takes off my bra? 

I'm wondering if I should ask if he has any protection, but I know you do Phillip because you've just taken double trouble out of your pocket. 

So I get another go in case I get it wrong the first time, how charitable of you. I suppose I should feel obliged as you're pulling my dress down over my hips. 

I'm not wearing tights. 

I expect you think I'm a slut, or worse.

Your fingers are teasing me.

Your hair is in my mouth and it tastes of bonfire smoke; 

I'm intoxicated and loving you. 

I'm falling like snowflakes, fragile and strong in great numbers, large numbers like my dress size. 

Stuck in the 16 to 18's since I was 10 years old.

The Fat English Girl

Bullied

Average

Dull

Snob

You're letting my dress drop to the floor, it sits around my feet and now I can't stop myself as you let me unwrap the trick, my treat is underneath. 

It's rich and strong like Zoe's Creole Christmas cake. 

It's fruity and sickly sweet, I can't eat a lot of it at once, but it's delicious.

Moreish.

I remember what you looked like at the bottom of our stairs, covering your manhood with a table lamp. My lightbulb lit and glowing as sweat pooled in the gap at your neck. 

I wanted to drink you that night.

Now the bandages are coming off I can see what I've been missing. 

And will miss when you've gone.

==========

I'm the tiger's empty cage. 

I've no idea why you're letting me do this to you. 

I'm discovering parts of me that I've forgotten all about. 

You're like a gift I open at Hanukkah; 

Covered in stardust;

You smell like a woman.

You taste sweeter and you're eager, do you really want me to do what I want to you? 

Are you at my command?

Why are you letting me carry you to your bedroom, the place I thought I'd never be allowed to see, and you're letting me kiss you

So deep. 

Deeper and deeper and deeper.

You're stoking up my fire, am I all you require?

Let me live my desire.

I'm swimming my tongue in your satin mouth, and I feel drunk on love. 

It's like I've been waiting my whole life, and I know, it will only be this one night because you'll hate me tomorrow for treating you so badly.

I've been an asshole.

I'm the asshole with the twinkle in his eye.

You're looking at me as if I'm a winning lotto ticket.

I'm a cheap $3 dollar scratchcard where you win a timeshare in Atlantic City.

I'm used and a user.

I'm using you too.

I'm loved and hated in this town by the women, I'm envied and competition for the men, I dread to think what I feel about myself, so I'll hide in you for a glorious night. In your arms, willing, strong, fleshy soft and hanging around my neck.

Are you tasting my hair?

I'll want to stay for the morning, but I don't want to see your disappointed face in bed next to me when you wake and realise;

What we've done. 

But I'll make you happy for a moment, even if it's only a weak brief orgasm. 

I can't get it up like I used to. 

I may need both condoms to find and reach your sweet spot. 

God I'm nervous. 

A total wreck.

Average at my job and my millions aren't earnt, they're inherited.

Why don't you find a man?

Not a Boy. 

Like me.

But I want you so bad.

I've tasted you and I can't go back.

But what if I fuck this up, as I struggle with the zip on this maddeningly sensual dress of yours? It was made for you, it shows me where you are, it's soft and silky in my palm as I run my hands up your sides.

Are you shaking?

Are you reacting to my tender touch tonight?

And you're melting. 

For me?

Seriously? 

I'm melting for you, you're so damn hot and spreading those beautiful long legs, shit it's raining, your affection is raining on me and I'll be surrounded in steam. 

I won't be able to see you. 

I'll feel for you instead. 

Am I really having the same effect on you as you're bringing out of me?

Because by now the skinny ones have retreated to the bathroom to take off their false eyelashes and remove chicken fillets.

I don't expect you to know what they are my Grecian goddess.

You've no need of any help, all natural, nothing fake and your shoulders are so maddeningly silky under my lips, shit you feel so good, I'm wanting to bite into this flesh as you sink into me. 

I'm so hard for you.

Your bra isn't padded, it's on the floor now.

You're beautiful.

I'm not deserving. 

You need a man who'll make you happy for longer than a night, not just to lie with you, wriggle on top and take his pleasure. And as your dress drops to the floor, a thump which I'd like to hear every night; 

You're watching me fall. 

What did I do to deserve this, your tits are under my gaze, but I daren't touch them like I want/need/crave to. 

Because you're unwrapping me. 

You're peeling my skin off with clever teasing fingers. 

Those that I tasted in my mouth. 

Scratch me. 

Leave your mark. 

Tenderness is not in my vocabulary, so you'll have to dig deep to get any reaction, feeling or emotion from me tonight.

Will you help me cum?

Please?

It was all I was ever any good at. I don't know how to be kind and considerate. I love myself more than I love you.

I'm begging you. 

Rain on me.

Rain tears on me please?

Pity me and love me till I leave you before the sun rises, then hit me with a book from your shelf as I run out on you. 

And break our hearts.

==========

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Well Well - I said - didn't I - that all good things will come to those who wait?
> 
> Part two of a three part mini chapter ménage a trois - I had to chop it up... when you read the next....
> 
> Blow your bloody socks off!
> 
> And your bandages!
> 
> Hey did you spot my references to "What We Do In The Shadows?" and "The Dead Don't Die?"  
> I had to - Morby could not resist.
> 
> And to my readers - sending you my love -


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't want me to spoil it for you?
> 
> Do you?

Phillip wasn't making any noise.

Helen was.

She had no idea she was a screamer till Phillip lay between her legs and used his tongue as she'd wanted him to.

God damn it he'd made out with her labia, long, deep and expertly.

He knew exactly what he was doing, even rubbing the cramp out of her calf, draping it over his shoulder. 

How caring;

How considerate. 

How conscientious and observant.

Magical.

That long tongue which had explored her mouth, then drifted down her neck to tingle her breasts, had dived in deeper, parted her, stroked and then tested her vocal chords to the maximum.

She hoped upstairs were asleep!

Phillip had laughed as she cried out in ecstacy, 

His name.

His forename.

_"Phillip!"_

Fuck, she sounded crazed.

She sounded sexy.

She sounded satisfied.

He kept up the bombardment with that positive feedback review. Helen sounded like she'd granted him five stars and he'd not even got his dick out of his shorts.

She was taking the exquisite pleasure pain that he was giving, and returning his confidence to him with her voice.

Turning him on.

All the way on.

I mean like to Number 11 on the scale, not Number 10 or anything.

Phillip was rock hard against the side of her bed.

Incredible.

Helen's first orgasm had excited the muscle inside her over and over, like a roll of ice-cream in a scoop, pushing his deliciousness into a tighter and tighter ball.

He was delectable. 

She'd never felt anything quite as intense since she'd overcharged the expensive sucking vibrator she'd treated herself to, last Christmas.

And almost hit the ceiling.

It had pressed on the nerve, and for a moment, she'd panicked, withdrawn the device and felt an immediate sense of loss, desperately trying to find that spot again, chasing it through her folds like a fox over the rolling English Landscape. 

Failing miserably.

The Hunt didn't get it's blooding that night.

But Phillip knew exactly where that spot was that she'd found by accident, he'd sucked at it, gently at first to test, then harder as she gifted him the clue that;

Yes, that was perfect, please do it again.

Oh my, you delicious, moreish man!

_"Phillip... please, do that againnnnnnn!"_

It was just below her clit, to the left (he could walk the left hand path any time he wanted) moving to the right and down he kissed, drew up his nose to push aside her labia and tickle that sweet silky moist, sweet viscous spot;

To hear her scream his name.

Moving back to the right he rubbed that cold and numb.

His pressure there was new to her, not as deep but she rolled to her right, encouraging him to carry on, her hand in her hair, pulling it out of her mouth, lifting both over her head.

Wild abandon; 

Keening;

Sighing; 

Writhing with this attention; 

Feeling everything.

His red hot nose in her folds.

His tongue lapping slowly up and down until he heard her whine, felt her legs quiver uncontrollably, then cramp.

Phillip knew she'd tensed, he'd seen other girls do this and he knew what to do.

With no hesitation at all, confident in his abilities, he took his hand from her ass cheek where it had kneaded quite comfortably, to drift up her thigh.

She needed to relax;

And lifting her leg, tickled behind the knee, rubbed and smiled as her heel hit his shoulder blade.

She'd sighed thanks as he watched slack jawed.

As Helen began to cry.

It must be an English thing!

He watched her stomach muscles contract and relax, he'd never seen it this visual before, the feeling against his three finger twist inside was astonishingly strong, he'd only felt it as a little tingle with other girls. 

Helen the woman, was lying on the end of her bed, arms stretched above her, trying to reach the bedstead and failing; 

Agitated; 

Desperate; 

Tears in her eyes.

Phillip dragged her back onto his lips, kissing inside her legs as she calmed. 

Then cried out again, gasping and asking him to stop, yet the writhing body under his tongue wasn't wanting him to stop.

Not for a moment.

Not ever;

Ever ever.

A brush of his goatee had tickled that sweet spot so tenderly, just a brush, feather soft and she was deathly still, holding on to his shoulders, not moving at all, then a rush as if an explosive had broken through the dam wall and unleashed the torrent held back behind it for so long.

Another orgasm?

Multiple?

"Fuck me Helen... you're kiddin?"

Mr Phillip Altman, Horny Bachelor.

That's a new one to add to your playlist isn't it? 

You lucky man. 

She's bestowed on you your first double hitter! 

All it took was a gossamer touch; 

Of your chin.

A breath of air; 

From your lips; 

Helen, the woman, is flying under you, she's drifting away with you.

And all you had to do was wait, no heady thrusts, no repetitive motion or groaned expletives. You've had your mouth full for 15 minutes, face a mess, tongue tired, jaw tensed. 

Helen smells musky, no fancy scents, or tailored pubic shaving. 

She's a woman, and you've just made her feel even more of one.

By just being kind and gentle.

"Helen are you alri...?"

"Give me more give me more give me more"

Nick Cave has no idea does he?

Now Mr Phillip Altman, with that as a starter, what do you anticipate serving Miss Helen Tradescant for her main course? 

How do you follow the dam burst? 

Well with a nuclear meltdown, goes without saying really.

No pressure, no not at all, it's all to do with chemistry. 

Affecting change, causing explosions.

Every action has a reaction.

His head was swimming.

His other head was swaying from side to side, demanding it be let out to roam over her landscapes, rolling hills, soft stomach, long legs. 

A stroll over the body of Helen Tradescant; 

Phillip Altman had been dreaming of this for years!

Kiss drunk on her breasts, she'd tried to keep him at her lips, as if she didn't know how to do anything else, scared perhaps?

Not unimaginative, but wary. 

Phillip had started with the technique he knew best, excelled in, felt the most confident in, not having to worry about his dick behaving itself, he could let his tongue do all the work and enjoy himself.

He was already a smart ass; 

Why not show hers how smart his mouth really could be?

And Helen had to allow him in, she was out to sea, had no idea what to do, letting him steer her course, said nothing as he kissed down her stomach, twisted her pubic hair between his fingers to pull at it gently.

Gasp;

Indrawn breath.

Tensed muscles;

Not moving;

Only anticipating.

He tried to think, decided if that was enough for Helen; 

Then it was also enough for him.

"I'll give you so much more, let me tie you down with my bandages and you can tell me I'm wicked."

Helen was smiling, hand covering her crying eyes. 

"You're evil"

Her other hand in his hair trying to coax him up. 

Rising off the bed all her muscles had relaxed, jellyfied like the spiders the werewolves had thrown at each other, Phillip catching them to throw them back as the party children squealed with laughter.

And Helen had smiled.

And Helen had squealed too.

Again moments ago for a very different reason.

And Phillip knew he'd see the sun come up with her.

After all.

He began to swaddle her in bandages.

His own little mummy.

Evil wicked Mummy.

==========

Morning light was creeping into her bedroom.

And Phillip Altman was wide awake and listening to Helen Tradescant sleep.

That sound.

Her tiny movements;

His hands warm against her skin. 

Her head now lay in his lap, stroking her hair and wondering if he could release her and creep out of the apartment.

The condom wrappers were still sealed.

He was going to let her down after all.

==========

The light was getting stronger, a gap in the curtain allowed a beam to shine in on her bare arm above the covers. 

Cold and soft, the fingers were moving in the warmer light.

Dreams.

Dirty dreams again, and as Helen stirred she hoped he'd be there to help her finish them off. She'd be able to make him laugh as she detailed what they'd been up to in the Library.

As Stephen watched, transfixed.

Phillip was naked. 

Of course he was, and chasing her as she climbed the stacks. 

Climbing up the periodical shelves in the bodice Stephen had sent her, the silk black ribbon trailing behind, caught in Phillip's teeth. 

Eyes dark and playful she felt him tug her back.

Falling into a heap of books and papers, he grabbed her arms and tied her wrists together behind, sinking her down on willing knees to take his erection, cut, into her mouth.

Phillip pulling books down around her, throwing them to the floor in temper.

Then she woke.

Oh then she woke. 

A hot mess and writhing over the bed, all the way over to fall onto the floor with a bump.

Phillip was gone.

==========

So she picked herself up off the floor, and sat on the side of unruly, damp sheets.

She wanted a one night stand.

She got one.

Well half of one.

He'd pulled out her orgasms one by one, shaking and writhing, he'd done it all and she'd accepted it gratefully.

As if it were a freebie; 

Just the one night; 

Because he felt sorry for her.

Helen had lain awake into the early hours, overstimulated and sweating. 

Lifting her hair from the back of her neck to cool, Phillip had stirred, extended his arm and pulled her in close, spooning by her side, gentle warm lips resting on her neck, breathing deep and steady in her ear.

Oddly she felt uncomfortable, as if she were being stood on the edge of a cliff and he were about to push her off, all he'd done was stroke her hair till she fell asleep.

Was this Phillip Altman, fo' real? 

Wasn't he once described as having a dick with a motor on? 

Poor Janine!

Helen knew what he sounded like when he came, also what he sounded like when he was trying to make someone cum.

He'd been in the next room, been in the next bathroom stall.

Why the sudden abstinence?

Oh ho, but she knew why.

Knew it like she knew her favourite chapter of 'The Lost World'.

'Question!'

Wasn't she desirable? 

Wasn't she enough for him?

Would she ever be good enough for Phillip Altman? 

She hardly fit his type, not attractive or rich, never social, constantly turning him down. Weren't all his women more willing than she had been?

He was always being talked about, and didn't Oscar Wilde say something about a man that was constantly being discussed ought to be worth something?

It was a paraphrase and she'd look it up when she could lift herself off the bed and carry on living.

Anyway, why would he want to have sex with this, she was too fat, stretchmarked, unshaven, nobbly, uneven skin toned, dark blonde.

She was rubbish, looking at herself in the mirror at the bottom of the bed.

She wasn't Tracy.

Or even Janine.

She wasn't worth his time.

He'd snuck out before the time on her clock, now 7am

At least he'd been good enough not to fuck her properly.

==========

Damn him.

Damn blast him.

How the fuck was he supposed to get around this?

"Get the fuck outta the way man!"

Phillip, driving at hellish speed was stuck behind a drunk driver. 

Where the fuck was a cop when you needed one?

==========

She'd had practice at this.

It was easier and quicker with a mirror.

It made you feel better.

It made Helen feel that yes, she _was_ the one with the control.

Putting on the Blue Basque and panties which she'd not been brave enough to hand to the charity shop. 

Attempting to feel better about herself.

She was feeling much worse, with Stephen's gift surrounding her. 

Closer to her chest than Phillip had been, pulling her in tighter and tighter till she could hardly breath, the black silk ribbons cinched in her waist, popped up her breasts and the cleavage appeared as if by magic.

She felt dirty.

She felt stupid.

She felt bereft. 

She hated Phillip, she hated Phillip, she hated him.

He didn't want her, he'd given her what she wanted, she'd had the sexual experience with him, just as dozens of other women had in this fucking town!

He hadn't even taken off his shorts! 

Helen couldn't remember if he'd pleasured himself as he pulled her orgasms from her like pulling books off a shelf.

He'd broken her will.

What there was of it. 

Four years to whittle her down;

Pull away the walls of sense, climb over the barricade's of superiority, cynicism, sarcasm to sleep with her, then go rushing off in that bloody incredible car and tell the whole world of his success.

Victory at last over the prudish, awkward, frigid ugly Librarian.

Braggot!

Bastard!

Now he can be crowned 'The King Of Shits'.

Empty and angry, just another individual broken in.

And she'd asked him to.

Thanks Phillip.

Thanks a fucking lot.

==========

Clever man.

Sneaky man.

He'd collected what he needed.

He had the drunk driver in his back mirror now and was shooting out of town.

Not a care in the fuckin world.

Arrogant bastard.

==========

Shit! 

It was run down.

Helen couldn't find the USB charger.

It was the white one right, with the two pins on the end? 

Not in her computer bag, not on the kitchen table, not behind the sofa cushions. 

Or on her dressing table.

Hating everything life was throwing at her, couldn't bend to pick up the cable from the floor, it had snaked under the bed, still attached to its charger.

Standing frustrated and cold in the bedroom doorway, trying to catch breath, unable to properly fill her lungs with air, a tight lightheadedness taking over;

Helen heard the door to her flat click unlocked and creak open.

"What the... wait I'm not dres..."

==========

"Fuckin hell Tradescant!"

Helen was standing in the doorway looking delicious, devine and devilishly pretty, a snack and he was hungry, starving, famished.

Helen was shocked;

Frustrated.

With a vibrator in her hand feeling peculiar.

Phillip was in thrown on tee; 

And jeans. 

With breakfast in his hand feeling honoured.

A box of johnnies wrapped in his tee shirt sleeve, creeping back into her apartment after he'd stolen her keys.

Not expecting her to have woken so early, a little jaunt to his apartment and the baker on the way back would have worked, if that fucking driver had fallen asleep, in his car, at the side of the road, like a responsible citizen.

Now, there she stood;

Awaiting him in a deep blue. 

The divinely tight basque and sleek panties which sank into her ass, he hardly knew where to cast his gaze. 

None of his previous conquests had done this;

For him.

None.

They'd expected him to do the work; 

Make the effort.

Lying back and letting him have his own way, grab his own pleasure. And they wondered afterwards, why they left feeling unsatisfied and used.

Phillip's mouth watered, eyes large and deep.

He daren't move.

Something else was moving, straining, knocking for admittance.

Helen wasn't smiling.

"What're you doing back here Altman?"

"I went to fetch us both some breakfast, fresh supplies, shit Tradescant, you look incredible!"

Phillip winked, devilish, aroused, out of his mind and ready to jump into her, onto her; 

His palms were itching.

Tee tight around his chest, heart clammering.

Fucking hell he never expected any of this.

Helen saw the bag of fresh French pastries, smelt his coffee; 

And collapsed.

==========

"I've never had a woman literally fall for me before!"

He was laughing, cradling her in his arms, lying on her unmade bed, he grinned to see the bandages still half tied to the bedstead. 

He'd loosened her silk ribbons a little, they were far too tight.

Her cleavage.

Fucking hell he wanted to glide his tongue over the hills and dales of Merry England.

He wanted it all, everything;

Absolutely everything he'd done with everyone before. 

With Helen Tradescant.

But he'd never done any of what he'd done to Helen last night to them.

Helen looked fucking fantastic, tied down in the remnants of his costume, and now she looked astonishing.

He really didn't expect the sight of her smooth skin and freshly woken, makeup stained face standing, waiting for him, looking so fucking delectable.

He'd almost dropped the bag of pastries in shock.

The colour suited her perfectly. 

"Puis-je nager en toi tous les soirs?"

_["May I swim in you every night?"]_

The basque dipped into her waist, accentuated her curves (as if they needed any help) that he was now stroking with his hand.

Breasts were pushed up smooth and round, this was too much, she was too much, too good, too nice, too clever, too hot; 

For him.

The steel boned basque wasn't something Phillip would have chosen for her, instead choosing yellow and soft, clinging, for Helen. 

All the livelong day he wanted her in yellow. 

She already owned the garment he wanted to see her wearing again for him, it wasn't this.

It was the Lemon wrap around, the cheaply made dress she'd bought from Walmart; and looked so wonderful in. 

The thought of it had his loins on fire.

What the hell was she doing dressed like this? 

Did she know he was coming back? 

She must have done. 

How?

Helen was coming round, face close to his neck, she could feel the rough texture of his goatee on her nose.

Opening her mouth Helen licked under his chin, moaned his name so softly and began to walk her fingers up his chest.

An involuntary reflex, Phillip closed his eyes tight and let her run wild.

She was crawling all over him, pulling him down, lying him on his back, kissing every inch of uncovered flesh and giggling.

"'Tu te noieras en moi Phillip"

_["You'll drown in me Phillip"]_

Boy...

She was driving;

Him; 

Crazy.

How long could he last? 

He didn't see her lift her leg over his waist, but he felt the mattress dip.

Screwed his eyes tighter closed.

"So you don't wanna watch?"

Helen was in control. 

He would learn the hard way, not to run from her warm bed again, not without her permission.

"Come on, let me see those amber eyes of yours, ils sont si jolis" _[they're so pretty]_

A kiss on the end of his nose, she was pulling at the waist of his jeans, smiling at the bulge, then running her hands underneath his tee; 

Helen was kissing his neck, wet, sloppy, tongue filled kisses.

Inching; 

Down and down.

Further and further with those insatiable lips, raking her fingernails on his chest. His arms had assumed the position hers had the night before.

Strained, lifted above his head, clinging to the bedrest; 

Knuckles white.

"Helen... that's very... I..."

"Je sais" _["a fact - or I know]_

She spoke to the flesh of his chest, licking a circle around each nipple, her head under his tee, hands now cradling his erection through denim.

With his eyes still closed he sat up, Helen's lips closer now to his neck, tangled in his shirt and giggling.

Straddling him.

Her pretty head out from under his shirt he tore it over his shoulders, the box of johnnies flew through the air to the floor, and Helen was;

Smiling.

He slammed his eyes shut again.

"Let me get you making some noise all your own Phillip."

This was;

The beginning of the end.

He knew it; 

Knew when his dick would begin to do what it wanted;

Under perform.

Prematurely;

Unsatisfactorily.

"Lie down, your eyes, open them wide, you'll miss your fireworks."

To underline the point, Helen pushed him back with her lips to the bed and began to slowly kiss his stomach. A cold nose running over his body, whipped open his eyes and searched everywhere for a blank space to stare at.

All he saw was Helen, crouched over him;

All he felt was Helen, kissing all over him.

Helen was taking her pleasure and gyrating her hips above his waist. 

A swallow in a dry throat, his coffee going cold.

Her hair was tickling; 

He covered his mouth holding in the laughter, Helen raised her head and gave him a dirty, sultry look.

"J'ai un boulot pour cette main"

_["I have a job for that hand to do Phillip."]_

Nodding her head towards her left hip, he took the hint, and rested his hand, sliding under the elastic of those panties. Cold and soft, pushed his fingers into flesh and heard a soft growl.

Of approval.

It didn't take any encouragement to put his other hand on her ass; 

Caressing through the satin; 

Sleekly; 

Softly; 

Sensuously; 

Encouraging him to slip in deeper and deeper.

He pulled her down. 

The fabric of the basque brushed his skin, his senses returning to hear her sniggering.

"Hold your breath, see if I care, I'll still get you making noise, 'laisse mot t'embrasser jusqu'a la mort" 

_["let me kiss you dead - till death"]_

She writhed down his body. 

No longer reaching her hips, he brushed hands up her sides till they rested, on her shoulders. 

Shit she was pulling his jeans from him with her teeth.

No.

No way.

Not that.

"Sorry... Hel... Helen, I can't let you do that"

"Don't say no to me"

"Not that, please, just... no..."

Pulling up the bed as she stared, puzzled, Phillip was trying to come down off the high and falling into the pit instead.

He could see the pendulum swing, hearing it swish over his head, waiting to cut his heart out.

"I don't understand, is it because you think I won't be any good?"

She was trying to understand his reluctance, why he'd pulled away, wasn't she doing what he wanted after all?

Had she been too forward?

Was she just not good enough?

"Helen... I can't"

"Can't what Phillip?"

Helen was kissing his shoulder, trying to keep him in the bed next to her as he leaned against the bedstead.

"I would love you to, no really I would, but not a blow job. I'm sorry"

"Oh." 

That was disappointing.

Maybe it wasn't his kink?

It seemed such a shame, she'd read about what to do, googled it even, and after the Three Horseman had laughed themselves stupid at the Porn they'd witnessed, Helen wondered if she was even capable of doing it, was she brave enough?

Porn was a mistake.

Was he really passing on an act she'd read men loved to have performed on them?

"Phillip, we can do something else, it's fine. What would _you_ like to do?"

Kneeling at his side, fingers held together under her chin, waiting for him to instruct her. She was trying to be kind, trying not to cry.

"Anything... just not that."

"Okay... what did you get in the brown bag?"

Helen gestured to his still warm coffee.

"Umm"

He twisted off the bed, thankful for a change of subject, mad at himself for wasting Helen's freely given offer.

Reluctant and ashamed, he spoke with unnecessary bitterness;

"Just a couple of croissants, an almond thing and some cinnamon rolls."

"You're a big cinnamon roll Pip"

Why was she being nice to him, nipping at his collarbone, licking in the dip between his back and clavicle. 

Drinking him, he tasted salty, tasted clean, cologne spiced and warm, yet childlike as if he were wearing it as a favour to someone else.

Phillip realised he'd just told the beauty in the basque he wasn't interested.

He'd told her; 

No.

And she'd listened, and looked matter of fact over it. Almost as if she didn't care, he expected her to make a joke of it, pull fun, ridicule him, righteous indignation made his nose itch, ears burn.

Fists at his side Helen felt him tense up.

He needed to relax, he was safe, she wouldn't do anything to hurt him.

"Pip... what a stupid fucking nickname"

"It's a bit Dickensian... what did your brothers call you?"

"Asshole, most of the time"

"Typical, what about your sister?"

"Just Phillip"

"Hmm"

Now did he detect a hint of sarcasm, or was it his own self loathing he could smell in his nostrils?

"I'm liking the sound of that 'Almond thing', no no no let me, be right back"

Jumping off the bed, patted his arm and swayed suggestively back to the living room, the stream of black silk ribbon following as if a snake, shadowing it's mistress.

Phillip;

Come on now pal you're in a safe space.

She's not about to throw you out, and yes by god she would love you to stay and play, you could see how she felt when you returned!

She fell into your arms.

Quite literally.

And you are about to let an old, faulty, horrific memory, spoil this morning for you?

Helen's bustling around in her kitchen wearing a basque, and being so very kind and it's brought tears to your eyes. 

Now didn't you dream that a while ago?

You were standing in the doorway of the apartment, watching her fill her teapot, dressed in blue, or was it yellow? 

Her perky, pretty bottom swaying side to side, singing to herself, she never knew you were there, in a world of her own, as she was when you saw her so often. 

In the library.

Except this time she was inviting you in, gasping in lust as you lifted her over the counter, took her panties down over cool, sticky, sweet tasting thighs, kissing her bottom, dragging cold fingers over her hips, pulling her legs apart and pounding into her till she screamed for you to stop.

Hmm.

She was yours, in body.

She is yours, now, in body and soul.

So don't sulk half naked on the end of the bed.

You fool!

Helen's expecting you to try a stunt, you can practically feel the throb between her legs against your dick. In fact didn't your mother write about something similar? One of your sexual adventures and explorations, in her book, once upon a time?

You thought it exploitative, those experiences should have been kept private, you were only little, finding your feet.

A young boy wondering why Boobies were so pretty, why the look on a kind, cute lady's face made you feel as if you needed to urinate.

Why the Buzz Lightyear patterned sheets were wet and sticky when you woke up in the middle of the night.

Your thoughtless Mother's misguided advice gave you permission to treat yourself as an object. She didn't show what your actions meant, how to learn from them and be kind to yourself. 

How these things are natural, aren't to be ashamed of;

But it's better not to share them with your school mates eh?

All Mommy Dearest has shown you is how to transfer that objectification to every woman that came into your life

She's used your innocence to make money, make you a laughing stock, ruined your life and pointed you out as a figure of fun.

Christ it's even how Tracy got her fucking stupid PhD, that wasn't worth shit.

Irredeemable Asshole!

Mommy's Boy!

Oedipus never had this much aggro, at least then Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr didn't exist. All that happened was some bored playwright wrote about you, starred you in a play, made your life story tragic and left their manuscript in a box, buried underground for a thousand years.

All this is a bad idea.

An opportunity to get out of that mindset is what Helen has granted you, with her saying no for this long, it's shaken you out of that spiral. 

You expected perfection in your mates.

Slim

Tall

Clever (well not always, that wasn't quite so necessary)

Easy 

You've been shown that the world (and Helen) will tell you no. 

It will refuse you what you want until you've earned it and even then they may not grant you a reprieve.

So get out into that kitchen and thank Helen for her help.

She's helped you rid yourself of your Mother, she's shown you that you can be a man if you want to, how to be kind, considerate.

Not to worry about your inconsistencies and contradictions.

Get on your knees and thank her

Now.

==========

He stood in the doorway and watched as she filled her tea pot, dressed in blue, singing the chorus of some old hip hop song that he didn't recognise.

She was ordinary.

She wasn't slim.

But tall, shapely, statuesque.

Not much money, but then what did that matter, the woman was intelligent, inquisitive, wilful and awkward.

"La parfum de ta peu est delicieux" 

_["The scent of your skin is delicious"]_

Phillip's hand snaked around her waist, chin on her shoulder as she poured her tea. The worktop looked enticing, exciting.

"And you're getting fresh with me, pull me closer Phil... 'S'il vous plaît?"

He obeyed; 

Her back to his chest heaved a sigh and smelt her hair. 

Bonfire smoke and burger grease.

"Yes I know I need a shower, it won't take me a minute, here take these to the bedroom, I've warmed up your coffee for you.

How pleasantly domestic.

She wriggled out of his embrace and trotted happily off to the bathroom.

She didn't hear him walk after her.

She didn't hear him open the bathroom door as she showered.

She never noticed him making himself comfortable on the closed toilet seat watching her bathe.

Sod.

==========

The steam filled her nose, eyes closed, feeling around for the shampoo bottle, dolloped a small puddle in her palm and rubbed it into her hair.

She relaxed as the bonfire Halloween party washed down the plughole.

The tiny bathroom filled with the scent of Lemons.

Oh dear.

She hadn't done it on purpose.

She'd no idea how he felt, they'd never talked, not as friends, how could she have known that the man, sitting watching her every move; 

Was crying silently?

Washing the suds away, a quick tug to remove the water from her hair, she felt for the handle and stepped out of the shower;

Straight into his arms.

"Phillip... wha..."

"You sexy little bookworm, you won't make it out of this apartment alive, now I have you, I'll help turn you into a butterfly."

Oh

My

God

Is this sentiment Phillip?

Are you serious?

Cos it's making me nauseous and Helen isn't sure if you're serious or not. 

Get serious.

Stop larking about.

Helen's all slippery wet and wriggling, she's kissing you and you're lifting her off her feet, persuading her against the bathroom wall, slick with shower moisture.

The tiles are cold.

Phillip didn't care as he undid his zip and dropped his jeans to the floor.

"You are not leaving this room till you yell my name, do you understand?"

The sparkle in her eye; 

The wet hair around her face;

He wanted to enter the cubicle with her but it was far too small, his own apartment shower was built just for two.

"I understand"

Helen plucked at the elastic of his clean shorts, twanged it back to slap his skin.

"No, that's not allowed, you gonna be good, you gonna be nice?"

"I'm gonna be naughty"

Phillip held out the little silver packet and Helen's eyes dashed fire, tapping it on her bottom lip she bit down on the plastic as he ripped it open.

"You'll be naughty?"

"Watch me, try and stop me"

"You'll not behave?"

"No"

"You're gonna miss-behave, god help me woman, what are you?"

"I'm a naughty little bookworm"

"You're my sexy little bookworm"

"This is so much fun, they never told me you were such fun"

"Am I?"

It was hardly a description Phillip would have ever used for himself.

Fun was for children, sex was for adults. Could the two exist in the same space? Asking the question why did he have so much sex if it wasn't fun, a little shocked as the answer came to him with a shop till 'Ting'.

It was fun;

For him.

Not for the object he was fucking. 

And they were objects, he could hardly remember names. Phillip was glad because the only name he wanted to remember was kissing him as if her life depended on it.

Deep

Hot

Luscious and wet.

All of her was wet, willing and wanton.

"You wanna put this on my dick?"

Don't mince your words will you Philip I mean, be direct, don't mess about!

_Phew weee!_

"Umm humm"

Phillip was responsible, sexy and wanting her, lying in wait for her, watching her shower, as she ran her hands and fingers over her soapy body, seeing how she missed bits, bent her arms to try and reach her back, struggling to stay upright to wash her feet.

Hot and sexy as she used her hands to wash between her legs, lingering over her labia, he envied those hands.

The basque and panties were now discarded on the floor, they felt cheap, he would make up for that the first chance he got.

And she would choose the colour for herself, they were as much for her as they would be for him. Lust wasn't the only reason to buy your spouse sexy under garments. They made the wearer feel pretty, wanted, powerful.

Helen was wondering how long he'd been there watching, she'd've made the show more sensual, if she'd known.

"Please be careful now Helen."

And there is the answer she needed.

Helen knew from that quietly spoken comment, and smiled. 

Phillip was circumsized, and cut men were sensitive, overly sensitive, more likely to become chaffed during sex, 'micro tears' she'd read and when they became infected.

Nasty.

In wet trembling fingers she took the condom, stretched it out like a party balloon and carefully let him push himself into it.

Why not?

It's what a man would do to a woman who was a virgin. 

Right?

Let the woman take them at their own speed, stretch (not break) the hymen and relax it enough to allow them entry. Phillip was sensitive, and there was a phrase she thought she'd never think or say.

"Gentle little Bookworm, thank you"

Phillip lifted dark relieved eyes to Helen's smile.

And dived in for a kiss, tilting his head to deepen it as she rested her head back on the tiles. 

One thing his female critics did agree on was the fact that he was; 

_'Handsy'_

Oh boy did those hands get everywhere!

Helen squealed into his mouth as he cupped her arse cheeks with both and squeezed, his fingers pulling them apart, the feeling was.

Unique.

And Helen liked it.

And Phillip loved how wet she was.

All over.

Bending his knee, pushing her legs apart, hands on her thighs he looked down and pushed his erection into warmth, and watched her wriggle and close her eyes.

She had her hands pressed to the tiles, pushing herself off the cold into heat, into him. Rising up he sunk down a little, rested his head on her shoulder.

Open wide Helen;

He's cut, but he's bigger than your vibrator. 

But not by much thank god. 

She was relieved that the spiteful stories the women told of his exaggerated length were untrue, and she'd been ready for that.

8 to 9 inches!

Did all Americans love to piss the British off by clinging on to the Imperial system? 

Who the fuck took a ruler or tape measure to Phillip Altman anyway, got him hard and asked to measure him?

Helen doubted he could stay still enough for the measurement to be taken accurately!

Seriously ladies?

Average male penises are 5-6 inches, all shapes and sizes, colours, bend in different directions, some don't bend at all. 

Just like women; 

They are all different.

Helen wasn't surprised that his past conquests had exaggerated. 

A Female Pissing Contest. 

How much could they fit up their slick, tight, shaved pussies like it was something to brag about, they could take a nine inch!

That was a Pizza measurement!

Anyway, the Vagina extended when aroused, I bet they didn't know that nature finds a way of making it easy on you.

9 inches!

What a load of bollocks.

Literally!

He was a comfortable 6 and Helen was in heaven as it pulsed inside, dragged back, the rim pulled tight and hot against her pubic bone. The ridge dragged around her vagina, a stuttered gasp in and he pushed it back; 

All the way back.

Good; 

This was going to be good. 

Helen stroked her fingers up his thighs, around his waist to pull him in, a sway of her hip and he grinned, took a kiss at her neck. 

He bobbed his leg.

Once, twice, three times, persuading himself further inside, Helen could hardly think, if she had the benefit of hindsight she would have blushed. 

She was chanting his name; 

Echoing off the tiles;

Taking in gulps of; 

Wet; 

Lemon scented; 

Air.

Phillip was concentrating; 

Keeping the urge back; 

Holding on to Helen as if she were a rock and he a drowning man. The smell of her skin, the way her hair dripped, splashed cold droplets onto his face, as if it were raining.

He could take his time, she was in no rush.

He was slow.

Maddeningly slow.

And it was wonderful.

==========

_You are my angel_

_Come from way above_

_To bring me love_

_Her eyes, she's on the darkside,_

_Neutralize, every man in sight_

_Love you love me love you love me love you love me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youlove me love youyoulove me love youlove me love youyoulove me_

_Love You._

Phillip came, deep.

Phillip came, deep and long and strong.

Phillip could hardly keep on his feet;

The bath towel on the floor preventing them from falling, as they gyrated against the tiles, now hot from Helen's body.

He'd leant into her shoulder attempting to catch breath, failing miserably as she kept whispering something. 

He couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing in his ears. 

It was his name, 

Over and over; 

And over again.

==========

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof....
> 
> Anybody not holding their hand to the forehead in some odd jane Austen type fainting fit will be ejected from the party and made to watch an Adam Sandler film!
> 
> Morby Means Bizness!
> 
> Stay chill, stay safe, have fun - see you again soon!  
> Love Morby


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promotions at work lead in all kinds of directions.
> 
> Anyone got a map that Phillip can use, because he's feeling a little lost?

I've seen all sorts of things. 

But Phillip Altman and Helen Tradescant, arm in arm, walking down Main Street, giggling, cuddling and sneaking kisses when they thought no one was watching, was a new one on me.

I like to think they're happy.

I hope they're happy.

They look happy.

I'm happy.

Hope you're happy too.

==========

It just so happened that while Phillip was hauled into his boss's office one Monday afternoon, Helen decided to use the key he'd given her.

It was June.

They'd been steady (and undulating) for 8 months.

Phillip had been dropping hints about something in the works, after the mad week of her May Birthday, Phillip made up for spoiling her previous two with dinner in a fancy restaurant, a drive to the lake and made mad passionate love to her under the stars. 

A little dull perhaps, a little cliched, but they were happy. 

What can I say?

He'd sent her a pretty card, a picture of 'Alice in Wonderland' on the front. 

A key taped inside.

_ 'Love Me' _

Written on the tag

Sentimental and sweet man.

Foolish.

==========

"Philip, thanks for sparing us a moment, sit down please?"

Looking bewildered and unsure, then opting for cocky and confident, sat opposite the boss's desk with his right foot resting on his left thigh. 

Arm over the back of the chair. 

Relaxed. 

Disobedient.

"We've been looking at your work"

Oh dear. 

He'd heard that tone used before when his previous jobs had asked him to leave. Usually on the insistence of some woman in the company who he'd persuaded to bed, then left high and dry.

Or through his own laziness, stupidity and inability to meet deadlines.

"And we're very impressed"

That got his attention.

Straightening in his chair, finally looking professional and attentive.

A little bit of praise goes a long way.

And Phillip was about to be sent to Pluto!

Single;

One way ticket.

==========

Helen had seen the inside of his apartment.

Lots of times.

But never on her own.

The key slotted into the lock of the door. 

Helen felt like a burglar, a bag in her hand, stepping in quietly, timidly.

The place felt so much bigger without Phil.

It was 'Phil and Hels Together Forever', he'd drawn a heart around that on his blackboard fridge door.

Bad Boy and Bookworm.

What a soft fool.

Helen had wanted to rub it out, catching her wrist in his hand, she almost had when he pushed her up against the counter to drag her heart out through her mouth.

That had been an exciting afternoon.

Helen had expected the sex to trail off as they both got comfortable with each other, as Phillip got bored, or she ran out of ideas to keep him interested.

Weird.

Because if anything.

It had ramped up.

Like he was making up for something. 

And as she crested the waves of his hips, listening to him call her name as he came, brush her hair, read her book over her shoulder, then kiss a cold book arm in bed, she was waiting for the wave to crash to the beach, pulled out by the rip.

Dragging her back to loneliness.

Phillip was too attentive, sometimes it felt wonderful, other times it was suffocating. He'd be intense and hostile, then caring, soft and malleable.

She didn't know what to do.

And that confident cockyness which judged before finding out, taking things at face value, the way she used sarcasm and cynicism to deflect, was starting to wear thin.

Especially with Phillip.

He caught her one day, a snide look at a woman in high heels, short skirt, walking past Connie's book shop. 

Now renamed "Calderera's"

The resultant judgemental outburst from Helen had Phillip storming out.

He had no room to talk!

Except Helen did something much more insidious.

She used the pretty woman's appearance to describe herself. 

In opposition.

_ The woman was slim  _

_ " _ God I would never get into that dress, even if I could afford it."

_ The woman had long hair -  _

_ " _ God I would never take so much time over my rats tails."

_ The woman was wearing red _

_ " _ God that colour would just bring out my bloodshot eyes."

Each supposed slutty attribute Helen could find would be twisted to criticize herself. 

He'd heard her do it before. 

Phillip wondered if it was because she wanted him to constantly praise her. But as he tried to, (and he didn't mind doing, he enjoyed paying her compliments) she would deflect each to cut herself, deeper and deeper.

He could scream at Helen for this, hopeless and running away from herself, it was a teenage temper tantrum, Helen was old enough to know better.

She thought she was fat, old, ugly, unintelligent, unsocial, needy and unwanted.

Phillip knew she wasn't.

But try telling Helen that.

So he gave up.

Let her get on with it.

He put up with it.

And the waves crashed to shore in the storm surge, a smooth rip pulling sediment from the beach to drown in the depths.

Cold

Dark

Depths.

==========

It's all about Trust.

It's not about Sex.

Although to Phillip that was a large looming lifeline, he was trying to grow up. But when you saw a hot girl at the grocery store, or at work.

What could you do?

But say.

_ 'Hello Hot Stuff' _

==========

Her name was Katherine.

Of course it was, he'd already tasted her in the bathroom stall, but he had no recollection of her face from that awful night.

She was the Intern; 

Slim, tall, dark hair, dark eyes; 

And very pretty.

Phillip had talked to her, couldn't avoid it, she worked in the office next door, they often rode the elevator together, sometimes alone together.

He checked her out one day.

Come on he's a man.

And of course, being a woman.

She'd caught him.

==========

Walking out of the bosses office, praise widening his head he strutted back to his desk, full of himself and bursting to tell someone.

Katherine got to him before Phillip got to his phone.

"Good meeting?"

"Bloody marvelous" 

Helen was rubbing off on him slightly.

"Promotion?"

"Kinda"

"Well you deserve it, talented, insightful, hard working, handsome"

Oh now come on, Phillip might be one of those, but all four?

Phillip felt it.

The electric charge, sparking green and blue as Katherine stood at the side of his drafting board.

"Thanks"

He looked up from his desk into hazel eyes.

And got a little lost.

==========

Helen sat on his sofa, reading.

In his apartment.

The Story Book Shag Pad.

Everything clean lines, sleek, no sign of personality anywhere, except some of her things which felt out of place, in the gloriously sophisticated living space.

A pair of her shoes, battered and clean.

A jacket, ten years old and counting. 

A few of her books, spines broken, water damaged and well loved.

The coffee pot was on, she'd tidied up after him a little, not a lot she wasn't his mother, then brewed herself a pot of tea and waited for him to return from work.

She'd never felt at home. 

Not even when he asked her to move in, after that argument they'd not spoken for a week. It had been hell, and neither of them had backed down. He wanted her close, not to control but to be with.

She wanted her independence, she could manage without his help thank you very much.

Pride comes before a fall.

And sometimes it's impossible to get back up again.

Can't stand?

Let me pull the rug from underneath you all.

And laugh.

==========

Pulling up outside home, he straightened his shirt, smoothed the crease out of his jacket cuff and sat thinking.

Too much to ask if Helen had texted him back.

Up to his apartment, key in the door, swung inside with a heavier heart than had left it in the morning.

"Hi Phil"

Oh no.

_ Why now? _

Not fair.

He needed to wash the day off his skin.

"Hi Helen"

Now I don't know about you, but when your full name is used by a loved one, it means trouble.

"I asked Zoe to make your favourite"

He smelt the aroma and wanted to curl into a ball and die.

"Thanks"

Lemon Iced Coconut cake and Coffee.

Throwing his work bag onto the seat beside her, walked to the kitchen and poured himself a mug, pushed the cake tin aside.

He never looked at her, never gave her a second glance, wragging his collar as if it would choke him, took a deep breath and said;

"You've condescended to use the key I gave you, to what honor do I owe this?"

Helen was used to dishing out this kind of comment, when it was fired back at her it felt cold and sharp.

Laced with poison, shot from a Recurve.

"I... umm, well I thought, I..."

Short of words, now there's another surprise.

"You know, actually, I want it back."

Phillip held out his hand, palm up gestured for the key, sick of the bullshit, sick of the indecision, she was quick enough to make up her mind when they were in bed.

Helen's eyes flew to his face, read in a second that he was serious. She had to take the key from her own bundle, it took a moment to unravel it.

He kept his hand out the entire time, put the key in his back pocket as she looked away, towards her overnight bag.

"Phil... I just wanted to..."

"If you say 'to say Hello'..."

"No... I mean I..."

"Just go."

Bloody hell.

Swallowing cold hard crystals, spikey and salty, Helen lifted herself from the sofa, picked up her bag of clothes and closed the door after her.

There was something in his eyes she was sure; 

She saw it;

Something in his eyes ;

And Helen wanted it for herself.

==========

Okay so go down fighting?

Or whimper and crawl into a pit of your own digging and stop breathing as the moon eclipses the sun?

It's up to you honey.

Standing the other side of the door, knowing full well that another step would mean nothing, half hoping he'd open his door, then his arms and drag her back to make hot, passionate love on the floor. 

Helen's stomach rolled in desperation;

Hope is a terrible thing.

And here comes the urge which she used to cover her troubles.

The stairs were taken, the short walk into town. 

Sitting in the gelateria with a three scoop sundae on the table in front of her.

It shouted abuse.

It screamed obscenities.

It told her what she was.

And the cherry on the top?

Was that fate wanted her to be alone, books and food won't let you down, tell you no. 

They will always be available to you, lose yourself in the adventures of people who only exist in writers minds. Get lost in a bag of crisps, then feel sick and fatigued, sleep and forget all the bad decisions of the day.

For a short while.

She threw it all back up when she got home.

To silence;

Solitude

Independent loneliness.

==========

Standing in the shower, washing off the day in mint shower gel, Phillip stood under the spray and wanted to drown.

His erection rubbed against the tiles, he watched it bob and finally subside.

Katherine was softer than Helen.

Katherine was younger than Helen.

Katherine was confident, cheeky and keen.

The shower washed away the dirt on the surface, it couldn't help wash away the guilt.

It only lathered it further in.

So much for the promotion, life gives it you in one hand and takes out of the other.

Except Phillip wasn't sure he'd had anything given to him at all.

Except misery.

And a cheap, mild orgasm.

==========

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationships are not a bed of roses, you know that dear reader. They are hard work, they have to be worked at, you need to be considerate, caring, thoughtful.
> 
> Be Yourself!
> 
> And we all know Phillip, we know he cant keep it in his pants for long, especially when he's been given a hard time by Helen who really can't be herself with him, not yet. 
> 
> Unconfident people tend to lash out when they are uncertain, or threatened. And who doesn't criticise themselves before another gets chance?
> 
> You may be wondering why I've done this?
> 
> Keep reading to find out.
> 
> Lots of Love From Morby


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen, oh dear how do you pick yourself up from a relationship which at first, you thought, was the best thing to have happened to you? It's not fair, she's not even fought for him, stood up to him, bore him down and asked him why.
> 
> To find something real to hold onto, a hole on the inside of her heart, with a shape which is vaguely reminiscent of him.
> 
> Phillip's just grabbed himself a bit of sweetness where he could, he's gone back to the old bad habit of;
> 
> "If you don't understand it, tear it down, run away from it and don't ask questions, just sleep your way into a shallow relationship and hope something will turn out"
> 
> It doesn't work that way.
> 
> He'd cough up a feeling, find something real in Helen, if she'd perhaps fight for him, ask him why.
> 
> But Katherine won't be having any of that, she's more wily than Helen, or Phillip is just too gullible, lazy, uncaring and emotionless.
> 
> Sour taste in your mouth?
> 
> GOOD - NOW READ ON MY LOVELY READER....

Helen would ask him why one day.

When she was ready. 

Except she knew the answer and was trying to find an excuse for everything.

Greed;

And control.

She wasn't trying to change, Phillip wanted to and had in his own way, he was taking responsibility for his own life, not running to Mommy when his ego needed stroking. That bird had long since flown.

Helen hadn't changed at all; 

Why should she?

Phillip hadn't asked her to. 

Took her as he found her; 

Adoring all her eccentricities. 

Just happy to be with her when he swung round after work to sit and watch TV, or read, or just for a cheeky hit and run.

Till she could wring his neck for being so considerate and exciting.

Unpredictability is a difficult thing to live with, and it's almost impossible to learn. Trying to remember what it was that she saw in Phillip Altman; 

And having trouble doing so, he'd gone back to his old habits and so had she.

Helen was just another notch on the bedpost after all. But this time the rejection would be handled maturely.

There would be no pleading text messages, desperate phone calls, no running off back to him to ask why he wanted the key back, because deep down she knew that she'd played the 'Hard to Get' card once too often.

Could hardly blame him.

This time she would be dignified, wouldn't show weakness, she was a strong independent woman, she needed no one.

Except;

She was also a liar.

And cried when no one was looking.

Helen found her inner steel, and it didn't take the form of a bustier, it was in her heart, closed, locked tight and uncaring.

Frozen.

She hadn't dropped a tear.

She'd cried him a lake.

==========

Katherine had dropped a great deal more.

And now Phillip knew how dirty his conquests had felt after he'd pulled stunts like this.

God she was hot.

Playful and easy, pussy tight, shaved, sleek. 

Easy to dominate, control, persuade. 

Her teeth clacked against his as she kissed him;

Her clit wet, dripping and always ready.

Christ what a cliche he's becoming.

It had taken moments, just pulling everything down.

Shit.

How pointless it all was now.

He knew his place, and he was stuck in it.

==========

Fact and Fantasy.

We would like the two to exist in the same plain.

Helen stood at the bedroom window, tea in hand watching the sun shine on a glorious Saturday morning.

One week afterwards.

Work at 2pm.

A cover shift for Zoe who was visiting the doctor to check on progress.

They, at least, we're moving on with their lives.

If perhaps she poured the scalding hot tea over her head she might finally feel something, anything except numb, cold and heartless.

Nothing from Phillip.

As if she'd expected anything.

Why should she get anything, she was worthless, ignorable, invisible and awkward.

She was stargazing.

==========

Phillip moved offices.

It was a big promotion after all, and it came with lots of privileges.

Including a lockable office door.

And a very wide, 

Ample, smooth;

Warm decadent desk.

Phillip ' _ Cliche'  _ Altman Esq... bachelor of this parish.

Not if Katherine had anything to do with it,

==========

Two Weeks Afterwards.

Zoe found out the IVF had failed.

Consuela lost her father to Cancer.

Phillip landed a $13 Million dollar advertising contract.

Katherine stayed the night.

Helen stayed exactly the same.

==========

Three Weeks Afterwards.

Zoe felt better and began to see her doctor about trying again, until Consuela persuaded her to give her body a rest, they'd discuss it again after returning from Argentina.

Helen had visited them both before they left. 

Zoe looked empty, like someone had poured hope into every part of her, then held her by the ankles and wrung it all out with a little bit extra.

Consuela wasn't much better.

Sitting on the sofa wrapped in comfortable clothes, Helen awkward and grieving, held her hand as she cried.

Phillip was flown abroad on the company's private jet to discuss the ad campaign he'd designed for their new client.

Katherine had tagged along.

Katherine went everywhere.

Like a travel bag.

==========

I told you I don't do easy.

I won't do happy.

Cos although books are all about losing yourself, they also have an obligation to tell the truth sometimes.

Make you think.

Make you look again.

Stay with you and pull you into worlds you don't expect.

Except now I'm upset at what I've done.

I want to die and put all this back together again. I want to sit by your side and apologise, lean my lonely head on your comfortable friendly shoulder and cry.

I can't work out why I've done this.

Why have I upset you?

How can I make it right?

All I want is to be happy with you.

All I want is to be true.

All I want is for Helen to be happy, for Phillip to suffer for what he's done.

But life never gives us what we want.

Does it?

==========

On the private jet back from Singapore, Phillip considered what he was returning to.

An apartment with Katherine in it.

A well paid job he loved.

A mother sporting a new nose and an elder brother's business worries.

A sister who's not spoken to him for months, another row with his brother in law, this time over his treatment of his kid nephew. His sister's husband had kicked him aside as he toddled around Mommy Dearest's house, a celebration at Mommy's return home.

To show off, brag about the countries she'd visited.

How they all loved her book, and how her wrist ached from all the signatures she'd had to draw.

Phillip had belted him, the thoughtless, irresponsible man, and hard. Knocked him over and put a satisfying shiner on his eye which would cause some embarrassment at work for him.

Did Phillip not realise he was only making it more difficult for her in the long run?

Hitting out was only causing more pain for everyone, including himself as he sat in the comfortable leather aeroplane chair, sipping on rum and ice.

In business class.

There was no relationship.

No Helen waiting for him in her Lemon dress.

He'd not seen that ever again, she'd probably gifted it to the Thrift.

Out of spite.

Katherine was checking her chicken fillets in the aeroplane mirror, someone had told her that high altitudes caused them to swell.

Let's be true to each other.

Let's talk about respect.

Because Phillip had none for Katherine, but then she had none for him either.

She didn't love him till she felt dizzy; 

She didn't fall asleep in his arms;

Warm up his coffee. 

Hold him close when he was unhappy, listen to his funny stories, watch the sun go down over the lake and laugh at Stephen Burtynsky wooing another victim on the end of a fishing rod.

Katherine v Helen

Taking bets...

==========

Why don't you care?

You've missed him terribly.

He held you as you wanted him to, at 3am he'd wake by your side, stroke your hair, kiss a cold shoulder and hold you so close you could feel his heartbeat.

It was so strong; 

Phillip smelt so nice after he'd made love to you, the sound of his breathing lulled you into dreams, sound, round and deep.

\---

Waking after a month of abstinence from life and sleep, Helen thought she'd managed to get over 8 months of madness; 

Intense feeling;

Exhilaration.

This would have to be the pattern of her life, her previous boyfriend had tired of her, it had taken him a year to realise what Helen was like. 

Awkward.

Obstinate

Selfish, greedy and thoughtless.

Phillip was more discerning and only took 8 months.

Eat sleep work repeat, so this was how her life was to proceed now was it? 

A spiral of disappointments. 

Empty promises. 

Self doubt and loathing? 

No wonder Phillip didn't want to know and had never got in touch over the weeks, she was a mess and why would he want to know a mess, what help could that be, one problem after another?

And all her making.

Stupid woman.

Helen didn't need someone else to validate her, she was quite happy on her own as she had been throughout her life. Capable of making her own decisions, run a home, do well at her job.

The library had promoted her too.

Of course she still had to push the cart of periodicals around, run up the stairs when the lift was busy to find a volume or dissertation copy requested by a student at the front desk. 

She enjoyed the new responsibilities and it filled in more time, less to be spent on her own, more hours in the company of books and magazines and she would forget all about Phillip Altman. 

Forget how he surprised her with kisses;

Hidden together in the Local History Dept, a quick fumble in the stacks and embarrassed giggles as they snogged each other stupid. 

Foolish walks in the park, spending time, saying nothing, saying everything.

Enjoying company.

They had very similar interests which had been a revelation, and now she could indulge herself in one of her own without his criticism.

Self pity. 

Hope is getting you nowhere.

She pushed her sandwich away along the bench in the park, wanting to wade out and drown in the cold water lake.

Anything to stop the hurt from calling her names, abusing her sleep, playing truant on her memory. She'd brought down the house around her ears with stupid self indulgence and cynical heartlessness.

Why not just be yourself? 

Why not learn to love what and who you are? 

You can't be everyone's friend.

You are overweight and unattractive.

You are you, and no one can take that away, they can't take away your imagination, your dreams, thoughts and opinions.

You live in the worlds you create in your mind, that imagination and longing can be used as fuel to get you through the day. Like an anchor to sanity, when your boss is giving you grief for bringing down the wrong periodicals - you realise that the 'Real World' has taken a back seat to the 'Fantasy World.'

And the 'Fantasy World' can be just as frightening Helen.

Let go of the control Helen.

Let go of the bitterness of parents who don't care Helen.

Let go of the sting of regret and abandonment Helen.

Please listen to me Helen please because you need help Helen.

HELEN!!!!

Bitterness and disappointment will eat you from the inside out, devour your heart whole and no one will care and even notice you are gone

**NO NO NO**

Don't put words into your writers mouth, people will know, they will know, they will miss you, they care!

I refuse to write you that way!

Zoe and Consuela care about you.

Mark and Gemma Deets (who've been bringing in treats for break times to try and encourage you to eat) care about you.

Phillip Altman cared about you for 8 months and you treated him terribly.

But you are you.

Be happy with that.

Be kind, always be kind.

And stop telling yourself that you aren't loved because you are;

And very deeply.

But first

You must learn

To love

Yourself.

Are you listening?

HELEN!!!

==========

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its just so up and down isn't it reader?
> 
> Well what would be the point of making it easy?
> 
> Hands up who has ever been in a relationship that was straightforward.
> 
> Hmm.... no.. no one in the back.... oh well there is always one... but I'm writing from my own experiences, so hush and keep on reading.
> 
> Love Morby


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen, 
> 
> Your face is a mess
> 
> Helen,
> 
> You've got sauce on your dress
> 
> Helen,
> 
> You're such a sight
> 
> Helen,
> 
> You gave us a fright
> 
> Helen - you can't stay like this forever my girl, you have to move on, let the past die, he's killed any chance of happiness with him, stone dead.
> 
> You are cold and frozen and twisted all up inside and it's all your own bloody minded fault.
> 
> But she has an ally... in a very unusual, chemically enhanced form!
> 
> Watch out Katherine, you fucked up little whore - Helen's coming for you, even though she's not washed for days, that she's not eaten a square meal for weeks, that she's thin and dowdy and not herself.
> 
> Just you fuckin wait girl!
> 
> That supercilious smile is gonna be wiped all over that face of yours!
> 
> Cos Helen is out of your league, and you know it - little miss clever trousers!

Dropping dress sizes.

An important revelation.

A great achievement.

And even though we've to be tolerant and considerate of others, we still do feel a sense of satisfaction when we can get into clothes we wore when we were slimmer, younger, stronger.

The empty feeling in Helen's stomach was the disguise for an empty heart as she walked along Bishop Street to see if her books on order had arrived at 'Calderera's'

She'd not washed for three days.

==========

Phillip saw Helen.

Phillip always saw Helen.

Phillip was looking out for Helen every waking moment. 

He couldn't change the way he felt about her however much he sank himself deep into Katherine's pussy.

And as she chirped into her mobile phone then checked her social media, Phillip felt cast adrift. As if he were above the car, watching someone else live his life for him. 

Not caring;

Bereft, useless and used.

Helen was walking down the street, books in her arms.

What a surprise.

===========

I want you and no one else;

It's amazing!

How much you make me forget myself when I'm with you, or even just staring at you, I see every mannerism and I know you're not happy.

You took a poisoned arrow and aimed it at my heart;

It's heavy and it's bitter, it found its mark;

And it's tearing me apart.

==========

"I have to get a fuckin bus, Phipps come on baby?"

"They're frequent from here, you'll be fine"

"Darling I thought we were going for dinner?"

"Change of plan"

Erratic, breathless and panicking.

The new suit he was sitting in was too tight, too hot, too Katherine, shit she had chosen it for him after all!

He wanted Helen to help him take it off.

Now!

Katherine slipped out of the passenger seat, muttering expletives, tapping a message into her phone. 

Standing on the sidewalk, casting a stuck up glance, she waved at his car screaming off down the street.

Who the hell gave Katherine permission to call him Phipps?

What a stupid fuckin' nickname.

He much preferred Phil.

==========

Chase me chase me chase me, your tongue's like poison, it's big and it's swollen and it's filling my mouth.

I hate you, I hate you, I'm begging you on my knees on the floor.

I never wanted you; 

I never wanted anything to do with you.

Get your fucking ass out of my life; 

Your shit out of my apartment.

Helen never even brought her clothes, did I really never make her feel comfortable?

Did I make her feel inadequate?

Like Katherine is making me feel as I see you walking along the sidewalk.

Alone.

I wish I were dead.

==========

Helen's dressed slovenly, in a world of her own.

She'd found her Birthday $200 dollar book token in her desk draw and decided to use it after all.

It had accompanied the key to his apartment and heart.

The books she'd ordered.

A special edition Edgar Allen Poe's 'Tales of Mystery & Imagination' illustrated by Harry Clarke.

'A Bigger Message' by David Hockney

'30,000 Years of Art' a Phaidon Edition she'd had her eye on for months.

Shifting the huge books from one sweaty arm to the other she walked back to the bus station, passing the bakery on Main Street, caught a whiff of cinnamon and almond.

And a smell she didn't want.

Warm, fragrant, delicious Coconut.

A hurried walk past before she dived inside and ordered something large, fattening and expensive.

"Hey... Bookworm"

No rap music; 

No thrown fries;

Nowhere to run away to.

Helen hugged her friends to her chest and turned to the Jaguar, top down, it's driver smiling carefully.

Painfully.

She looked terrible.

"Where you headed?"

"Home"

"Which one?"

Phillip, out of options pushed his luck, she really did look terrible. Uneven skin tone, tired eyes, a sore around her nose. Her hair slicked up in a tight ponytail, unwashed, unloved and just not Helen.

Helen thought Phillip looked wonderful.

Tanned, his hair had grown a little longer, flushed with excitement and positively glowing with confidence and charm.

How fucking dare he!

So this was the pattern.

He insults her again, pulls fun and ridicules. 

Helen deserves it for how she's acted, not once asking if he's alright, how is he getting on, is he enjoying fucking the intern?

The woman who gave him the yeast infection. 

The one who grinned at the bar that night, pulling her knickers out of her arse.

That fucking skinny, pert, slim, toned, athletic, young, pretty, rich, educated, shaved, fucking hell  _ no no no _ !

Helen you are bitter.

What a piece of work.

She had no style, no grace, wasn't a lady.

What do we learn about judging people Helen?

Don't.

Because they will judge you back.

"My home"

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel he matched her faster pace along the street.

"Give you a lift, you look like you need it with half the bookshop under your arm?"

"I'd much rather walk"

Stubborn

Foolish

English.

Near the precipice, dangerously close to the cliff edge and no going back.

"Suit yourself"

He needed time to think of something clever.

"Fuck you Tradescant!"

He regretted it as soon as it left his motormouth.

Pulling back into traffic looked in his rearview mirror, she'd stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Turning the corner he parked up and waited.

\---

Helen turned to watch a familiar figure sashay across the road.

Well dressed, graceful.

Recognised from the back cover of a hardback book.

Oh fuck off.

Just fuck the Altman family.

All of you.

===========

And as he waited.

"Phipps, what are you doing parked here?"

"Katherine... I"

"Look if you wanted to..."

"I wanted some time on my own, is that too much to ask?"

"No need to be defensive baby."

"I'm not wanting you hanging around me all the fuckin time, you're everywhere, you're suffocating, and stop calling me baby!"

Katherine looked annoyed, a little worried.

Not for long.

"Hello Honey"

What the hell?

Oh no why now?

"Hi Mom"

Oh Mommy Dearest, what are you doing in town today, can't you see your baby boy is busy with his buxom brunette beauty?

Didn't Phillip tell you Helen had dyed her hair from blonde, he never tells you anything anymore, why are you not surprised?

"I've been asking him to bring you over for supper since I returned from my successful book tour of Europe Helen, you needed to come over one time, he always puts me off... hi, I'm Hilary."

Her nose sharper and less natural, held out her hand, handbag dangling from the elbow.

Katherine looked down her nose at the unnatural Cougar, standing in expensive shoes, an expensive suit, smiled and pulled her hand through expensively cut hair.

"Helen?"

"Every time he calls, every time he sees me it's Helen this or Helen that, he's very smitten with you."

Oh now see Mommy this is not the way to go. 

Haven't you noticed British Helen has all of a sudden taken to speaking with a high pitched American accent? 

So much for being an observer of life. 

You shouldn't assume that the tall, young, long haired doll, leaning with her arms folded in temper against your son's car;

Is Helen. 

Aren't your books enough of a mortification for your youngest son?

"He's smitten with me alright"

Katherine shot a spiteful eye at Phillip, who wanted to put a bomb under his Mom, and shoot her into orbit.

"Yes, he tells me you work at the Library, I don't suppose they carry my books do they, you look a little overdressed for a librarian!"

Spiteful catty piece of work, Phillip was glad it wasn't Helen after all who'd turned up.

Where was she?

"I've no idea"

Katherine's hair was swept up over her shoulder, cascaded down her back and hit Phillip in the face, he coughed it away. 

It smelt of sweet raspberry, soft and beautiful.

"I should send them a few copies, maybe my new one, what do you think Phillip? So Helen, are you going to make an honest man of my youngest?"

"I was considering it, yeah"

Phillip wanted the two of them to set up the first manned base on Uranus, anything but to be here now, when Helen was around the corner, looking unwell.

All his fault. 

The women at his side were in the way, he was tempted to put his foot on the gas and leave them in his dust.

Where was Helen?

"Good, he's been philandering around far too long, time he had someone reliable and kind on his side. Too many of his girlfriends were hit and runs - Helen you've tamed him!"

Phillip's eyebrows hit the ceiling, rested his forehead on the steering wheel and groaned voluably. Hilary Altman looked over the shoulder of the new girlfriend and smiled at his discomfort.

"I've tamed him?"

Phillip swallowed anger, swallowed truth, and felt sick.

"Yeah, he's considerate, caring, it's such a sea change. He's grown up."

"Mom"

"Yes honey?"

"Are you on your way to somewhere?"

"Well actually I was on my way back home, you wouldn't give me a lift would you, Linda's at the salon and won't be finished for hours, please?"

"Sure"

Like he had a choice.

"Helen, you coming too?"

"Yeah I think I'll tag along, we were going for dinner, but I think we can make the detour, can't we Phipps?"

Phillip was trapped between the two women who really had the control. 

In a cell with these two for the rest of his life he'd go mad. 

An international playboy who had no heart, no mind of his own, collecting a woman in each exotic destination to fuck when he was in town. Just so he could feel attractive, wanted and not empty, not unfulfilled and hiding from something.

Knowing it was why Katherine had accompanied every overseas trip he'd made over the last month, and there were plenty of those.

The real Helen turned the corner to watch them driving off.

He saw her in his rearview mirror, tears in his eyes.

Phillip had never asked her to meet his mother.

And Helen knew why.

==========

Over the ocean;

Lives an odd little Englishman in a tall red lighthouse.

He tends the light;

Diligently

Every night.

And to all the lost souls who cry out to him for a guide.

He answers with a cheery wave;

'This way, there is hope at the end of the beam of light, follow it and all will be well.'

But the souls are double crossed. 

Because;

The lighthouse keeper is the Devil.

And the end of the beam; 

Is Hell.

Helen had been following that light.

On the corner of the street she saw what lay at the end of it. Locking all the hate in a box, stored away on the shelves in her head, a broken heart began to thump again.

She had something to push against.

If you give up your affairs forever, I shall give up mine.

But it's hard.

Katherine was pretty but she wasn't all that. She may be tall but so was Helen, and there she had the edge.

Because Helen was strong, willful, clever and independant. 

Even with a broken heart she could make something of herself, she was still going to work, she was still breathing.

Reaching home that day, the books placed with the others on her 'Altman Shelf' she sat and drank tea, made a list in her head of all the things she thought were wrong with her, and compared them with what she thought was right with Katherine.

The lists matched.

The lists were ripped apart.

Feelings so strong can't be ignored.

Helen burst.

Ouch!

She was transformed.

==========

"Phillip go put on the coffee would you honey?"

Stood at the sink with his heart in his mouth, wanting to rip the socket from the wall, take the cord and strangle the life from that stupid bitch next door.

Trouble was, he couldn't be sure which one he wanted rid of first.

Which bitch he'd gladly do the time for.

Helen could visit him in jail.

Their conjugal visits would be explosive.

The two ladies in the front room were getting on like a house on fire, if that wasn't enough of a warning to him to get out of Dodge City and fast.

Then he was deaf, blind.

"Hurry up with those coffees Phipps... baby?"

The spiteful, horny, sexy bitch was playing both ends against the middle, for what? 

Hang on Busta Rhymes, are you telling us,  _ Mr Altman, _ that you never did this to one of your many conquests?

Are you telling us, you aresole, that you don't deserve to be treated like an object at last?

Irredeemable prat!

Except women are only usually this spiteful towards their own sex, and Katherine was fitting the profile, testing him, teasing him.

Katherine was riling him up so they'd have hot, angry, hate sex in his huge bed, when they got home.

Holding the tray in his hand, took a deep breath and walked through to the living room, they sat, opposite each other, thighs uncovered, patting their hair, pouting and preening.

They were competing.

It would have been funny if it didn't look so absurd. 

His mother, the 60 (ish) author, bestseller and amateur psychologist.

And Katherine, the 20 (ish) intern, university graduate and amateur bitch.

Phillip smiled inside, glad that he'd never put his real lover through this, Helen was strong, but against Hilary? He swallowed his pride, sat beside Mommy Dearest and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa. 

So let's play the Oedipus Game.

Ready with the gouge for your eyes Phillip?

"I thought you were British?"

"Oh I lost that pretentious accent years ago Mrs Altman"

"I always thought it rather classy."

"Not really, it only serves me when I need to sound disdainful, I hardly use it now."

Hilary raised her eyebrows, and dismissed the woman on the spot. 

"Helen tells me she's moved in with you Phillip"

"I've just brought over a few of my things, the whole place is so beautiful, you have great taste Mrs Altman."

Fake Helen winked and re-crossed her legs, allowing Phillip a brief glimpse of her G string.

A shot across his mother's port aft, now for the answering salvo.

"I bought it for him with the advance on my latest bestseller, it's been so successful in Europe, although the English treated it with condescension, I found them all very disrespectful."

"Yes they are... sorry I mean yes we can be... oh is that my coffee Phipps darling, thanks."

Leant over the table to pick up her cup and flashed her real breasts at Hilary Altman.

30/15.

Phillip nodded his head, took a mouthful of coffee, waiting for the right moment.

"I was wondering though, if perhaps I could make some changes, in the apartment I mean, the whole place is beautiful in grey and black, but some colour would look incredible"

Changes?

Helen had never mentioned any changes, she'd told him the place felt cold.

That was all.

And Phillip was only too happy to help warm Helen up with his body.

"Maybe some pastels, perhaps, you ought to make a few adjustments Phillip, Helen here should be comfortable if she's moving in permanently"

The thought had his gut.

It pulled, 

It twisted, 

His empty life was done. 

Wanting to pull the trigger and blow his mind away. 

The thought of spending the rest of his life on top of Katherine, shit he had no hope, he was looking for someone to bear witness to his misery.

Why did he have to shout after Helen, again?

"Helen dear, you're not quite what I expected"

"What did you expect, I'm intrigued"

Placing her cup on the arm of the sofa, pulled painted fingernails through her long hair. Hilary was ready to pull it out by the roots.

"Well Phillip never told me you were... so young"

Katherine tossed her hair over her shoulder, a supercilious smile on sticky, shiny lips.

"And Phipps didn't tell me he had such an attractive Mommy"

Hilary raised her eyebrows, patted her blonde bob and leaned into her son's arm.

"Why thank you, that is kind, it's expensive but worth it, so which surgeon do you favour, I like Dr Satursson, he works wonders on breast enhancements, do you use him too?"

Ouch!

30 Love.

And Phillip would do nothing to stop it, only thanking his lucky stars he never brought The Real True Helen to one of his Mom's Interrogation Parties.

"Yes you can hardly see the scarring, it's great the extensive work you've had done Hilary!"

Deuce.

A swallow, a lift of her drink to pause and think, Hilary began again.

"Phillip tells me you've read my bestseller?"

Katherine looked at him. 

Phillip at that moment decided the magazine on the table looked fascinating, picked it up and sniggered.

It carried an article on 'The Top 10 Vibrators For The Single Lady', he smiled to remember Helen's collection, how she'd looked embarrassed as he opened her 'Naughty Draw', then satisfied as he used one on her, then on himself.

They'd laughed for hours at the fun they'd had with those, then twirling the Anal beads around his index finger, Helen bright crimson as she helped him insert them, sighing with contentment as they tapped at his Prostate.

She wondered if she might need a ladder, to reach and paint his cum stain off the ceiling.

Phillip said she was exaggerating.

Helen said she needed to buy a new bed;

The legs had buckled under the pressure;

Again!

"I've had a quick flick through it"

"And what did you think?"

Hilary raised plucked eyebrows, and waited, she could see the woman thinking, a small mewl at the side of her mouth, a micro frown on smooth youthful, tight skin. 

"It's great"

She drummed her manicured nails on the arm of the chair.

"It took me years of hard work, the incidents are true, my daughter hasn't forgiven me, but she understands"

"I don't see why, you've made her famous"

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean?"

"Well, if someone wrote about me in a book I would adore the attention, what a compliment to be included in such a great funny story!"

"A funny story?"

"Yeah"

"It's a collection of essays about my children, are you sure you have the right book?"

Phillip read that the most popular sex toy was called 'The Bouncing Bunny' he knew Helen prefered the ones that sucked;

Hard.

Helen said they were no replacement for him, and he'd blushed, properly blushed as she used one on his nipples, just for a giggle.

He'd insisted it be part of their love making from that moment on and Helen felt a whole lot more comfortable using one in front of him.

She was the best at turning him on.

Hard.

"Umm, the one called Family Matters?"

"No..."

"You haven't read it have you Helen?"

"I have read it, but I read so many other things I forgot some of the details, it made the bestseller list didn't it?"

Katherine conceded that round for now, building up the ire and resentment for the next set.

"So Helen, how's the sex?"

"Sorry?"

"No need to be embarrassed, I'm his mommy, I know all about Phillip's predilections."

Oh for a Florida Sinkhole!

Phillip would give anything for one to open up and swallow the house in one gulp, with him standing on the brim watching the two catty women fighting each other to get out.

He could stand beside Helen, hand in hand.

Laughing as he filled in it with a spade, then dance with her on the mound of earth he'd piled over his horrific Mother.

"Well I... he... he's very satisfying"

Katherine gulped, she'd never had such a direct question leveled at her, sex was private, it was serious, they didn't call it the 'Missionary Position' for nothing.

She had to be drunk to let Phillip anywhere near her labia with his mouth.

She'd been very drunk the night at the bar, bouncing off the rebound, falling into the unforgiving arms of Phillip Altman.

"No complaints?"

Hilary reiterated, sipping on her coffee.

"Yesterday, he couldn't quite get it up for me, then when he did he came, a bit early."

You spiteful bitch.

To Hilary, this was old news, and she batted it away as if it were unimportant. 

Phillip did not.

The rest of his manhood was being squeezed between his mother and his current lover.

"Phipps is perhaps a bit eager, but he makes up for it"

"He always did, the little tike, always shouted when he came I remember"

"Mom please!"

Oh so Phillip does have a tongue in his head then?

Hilary, do you have no sense or feeling? 

You're sensing Phillip going bright red; 

Pulling away from your clawing hand; 

On his leg. 

The woman sitting opposite you is fighting back.

And losing.

"Come now honey buns, we can discuss this, it's healthy for a mother to take an interest in her children's sexual health."

"No it's not, not now"

"I don't mind telling you Hilary, like you say, we're all adults here"

Katherine held her arms crossed over her chest, defiant, childish, the best form of defense was attack, and she'd lost the initiative.

"Mom, this is not appropriate"

"Don't be shy honey, I remember when you were 11 years old, catching you with my expensive scented hand cream and a rubber glove in the tree hou..."

"Mother!"

Katherine was sniggering, the vindictive foolish child.

"Oh by the way Mom, this isn't Helen"

At last!

For a moment there I thought the 'Curse of The Mummy' was real.

"But honey"

"This isn't Helen, her name's Katherine and she's the Intern at work."

"Why... oh dear have I made a mistake?"

Katherine looked superior, unapologetic and sexy, a toss of her hair, a pout of her lip and the real rocks of her breasts heaved up into his mother's gaze, again.

Competition between females is the dirtiest form of combat, and men who are foolish enough to get caught in between, have no chance of coming out alive.

"I didn't like to contradict you Hilary, I mean I am Phipps's girlfriend, so I'm kinda Helen, in a way."

"No you're not"

Phillip, a backbone, I knew you had it in you!

Helen knew all along, she'd run her tongue filled kisses up and down it often enough.

"Helen, that frumpy, fat English girl who works at the library, you upgraded when you met me baby."

Shit Katherine! 

Don't you understand that you shouldn't criticise another in order to make yourself look better. 

You've no sense. 

And where there is no sense; 

There is no feeling. 

Where there is no feeling; 

There's no hope.

"Phillip hasn't mentioned you at all"

Hilary could be a bitch, but feeling her son bristle with deep anger beside her, she knew something was wrong. She took her time, this whole discussion (if you would term it that) was wrong.

"Phipps haven't you mentioned me once?"

Katherine is this not going the way you want?

Boo hoo!

"No, nothing, not even a vague description, Katherine you say, and you've known my son for?"

"Two months."

Shot off hot and now the long slim legs shut with a snap, the hair was left in place, her eyes flung daggers at Phillip, who held the gaze and fired back arrows; 

From a Recurve.

Each hit the gold.

"Helen's been around for... how long is it now Phillip?"

"Almost five years"

"I didn't think you looked mature enough, Phillip always goes for sophisticated women, you've a long way to go yet princess."

Bloody hell Hilary don't pull any punches will you?

"I'm 23 next month"

"Not even out of the egg, what course did you study at school again honey?"

Sanctimonious, superior, sarcastic.

Typical older woman, thinking age means wisdom, and wisdom means you can tell the Millennials the facts of life.

Arrogance in a woman is always to be revered, or despised, depending on if you're into dominance or not.

Phillip could see what Tracy meant now, he understood the principle of her theory. Didn't mean he had to like it, especially since it made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Politics and International Relations, History of Philosophy."

"And you chose an Advertising agency as a starting block?" 

"Mrs Altman!"

"Look honey, word from the wise, if you're gonna pretend to be someone else then take a long look at yourself before you try. You've a lot to learn, and if you ever wanted to fill Helen's shoes then you'll have to smarten yourself up, a lot."

Katherine stood incandescent looking for back up.

"Phillip?"

"I'll drive you home"

"Which one Phipps?"

Hilary Altman was sniggering, what a stupid nickname, even her absent son Judd never called Phillip that. 

How old was Katherine again, 23 or 13?

"Nice to meet you Katherine"

Liar

She was no match for Mrs Altman, not by any stretch of the imagination, hardly gave a care to how this was all affecting Phillip until he returned later that day.

A Birds and the Bees speech; 

For overly caring parents.

He needed to tell her a few home truths.

==========

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I so love writing bloody dialogue - its such fun fun fun... I start with that first then build up around it... like a set of scaffolding, where the characters sing as they erect it, and the detail puts the roof on the story!
> 
> Can you tell I had a lot of fun writing this bitchy balsy chapter?
> 
> Can ya reader - can ya?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know Hilary Altman right?
> 
> Sophisticated, graceful, a successful authoress, arrogant, forceful and Mother Superior. 
> 
> She honestly can't help but compete, with any woman, especially the younger ones, who's tits are like rocks, bodies firmer, hair thicker. 
> 
> Prettier, and always a competition for her youngest son's affections. It's a wonder she's even interested, she hasn't been before.
> 
> Maybe this time she realises Phillip is serious, he's more responsible, caring, he's withdrawn into himself and she can't get that out of her mind.
> 
> Running interference, she cant help but ask questions, insist on getting all up in her sons business.
> 
> He's an adult, he's a man, he can make the biggest mistake of his life and she doesn't care, she doesn't see how her interference breaks all the rules.
> 
> But she hates to see him unlike himself.

The Library, a home from home. 

It contained millions of worlds, trapped in paper and cardboard, dreams you could touch, and fuel enquiring minds. A magnificent skyline of literature and when life outside was tumbling down around you, and you felt yourself spiraling in it's maelstrom;

You could visit.

Sit comfortable in The Greek section, in Phillip's comfy chair, a light behind you, cool in summer, warm in winter, surrounded by tumbling books, embraced by wooden shelves to fall deeply in love and forget your troubles;

Explore deepest, darkest Africa with H. Rider Haggard;

Try to understand your mother with Jeanette Winterson; 

Ride backwards Merry Go Rounds with Ray Bradbury;

Explore Alien worlds with Asimov;

Read about the Altman Family and thank your lucky stars that you're not related.

"Hi... I'm here to see Miss Tradescant"

"Sure, this way, she's expecting you."

The promotion Helen received also came with an office, telephone, desk and chair, she'd been happy at the Library, they'd treated her real fair!

Think of seven letters, begin and end in P, like a big American man, but substitute with Mommy.

Utter madness and Helen was nervous, just a little bit.

"Hey Hels, the lady about her book is here"

"Thanks Mark, Mrs Altman good afternoon, it's kind of you to come in"

The woman that stood in front of Hilary was much more like her son's type, she wondered if she were single. Mature and calm, her confident hand held out to shake.

Is that really our delightfully muddled, snobby Helen?

I'm afraid it is. 

His nasty shouted comment had spurred her on.

_ "Fuck off Tradescant" _

Be happy on your own, that's all we have in the end.

"I've been trying to reach you here for weeks, you're a busy young woman."

"I'm sorry to have had to keep putting you off, being busy keeps you out of trouble doesn't it, would you?"

Helen motioned to a seat by her desk, and to Hilary's surprise the woman in smart red pencil skirt and black shirt, sat next to her, not behind her desk.

"Thanks, I've brought my book for you"

"Our supplier sent a batch yesterday, you didn't need to bring one, but thanks all the same, I think it will be a popular read among the Psychology students, but I must tell you I was very surprised when I read it myself."

"You've read it?"

"Yes of course, I finished it last week, I'm a fast reader which comes in very handy in my job, it's a kind book, almost affectionate, I expected the same as last time, rather banal and over indulgent self aggrandizement, another list of boring embarrassing family histories."

Hilary was taken aback, the British really were the absolute limit!

She'd heard nothing but praise from the fans and distributors of her books, it was rapidly climbing the bestseller lists.

"You didn't expect it?"

"No, I'm going to be frank. I didn't like your first book, I thought it was badly edited, hardly groundbreaking or insightful. No please I am not insulting you, I believe you value honesty and truthfulness, otherwise what's the point of everything? But this new work, it's more heartfelt, and I think your new editor and publishers have done you proud."

"Well I..."

"Mrs Altman, I don't read the subjects you write about, so I'm no expert, the students will be all over you I'm afraid. May I be allowed to give them your publisher's contact, I imagine they'll have a great many questions to put to you, they will want to dissect this down to the bone?"

"I don't know what to say"

Well Hilary, this is a first, you've usually some smart comment to make, or opinion to inflict, But sitting facing a woman who isn't over awed or even a little dominated by you is intriguing.

She's not even trying to compete with you, because deep down she knows you are no competition.

And never will be.

"I hope you won't take my comments the wrong way, I'm relieved you wanted to talk to me, this over an email would not have gone over at all, face to face doesn't lead to any misunderstandings or misinterpretations, don't you agree?"

"Yeah, sorry yes indeed, I appreciate your opinion, you will understand if I disagree with it?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, you're the author, you've made millions, what's my opinion worth in the scheme of it all, but I'm forgetting my manners Mrs Altman, may I get you something to drink?"

Mark had already covered that base, he was always on the lookout for ways to help Helen, just for a flash of her smile. He opened the office door and brought in two mismatched mugs of tea.

"Thanks Mark!"

And he blustered out of the room as two lovely sets of eyes watched him.

Gemma Deets better have shaved her legs, she was in for another horizontal marathon tonight.

"Mrs Altman, when we spoke on the phone, you asked me if I knew of any other British people living here, why was that?"

"My son Phillip was dating one, a few months ago, she turned him inside out, I wondered if you knew her."

"What's her name?"

Helen sipped her tea and watched the grace of Hilary Altman as she tried to describe the bitch who'd broken her youngest son's heart.

"He's still cut up about it all, she kept him dangling for years, always one up, always playing games. He'd come to me to ask advice, I'm his mommy after all. I said she didn't like him, she couldn't see what I could see, but he always would fight against my advice. I'm sorry Miss... is it Miss?"

"It is yes"

"That's a surprise, I thought you'd be married with kids?"

"What made you think that?"

"You look... actually I'm wrong aren't I?"

"Totally Mrs Altman, yes."

"Sorry"

"Not at all, it's a compliment, would you mind if I asked you something?"

"Of course"

"Is that Alexander McQueen on your arm?"

The bag sat on the floor now, full of expensive makeup, a copy of her hardback peeking out of the top.

"Yes"

"I don't think I've seen that line over here yet."

"I bought it in Paris, do you like it?"

"After his death the designs did deteriorate, nowhere near as edgy or unique, but I do like your's, it's rather attractive"

A compliment with a sting in the tail.

Had she been given lessons by Mrs Altman?

Hilary hardly ever paid compliments to women, but that was it.

Mommy dearest was won over, bowled over.

And Helen had hit her over the head with her own goddamn book.

"Call me Hilary"

===========

Phillip Altman, man about town, running around after skirt at the office anymore? 

No. 

The row they'd had as she collected her things, and some of his, from the apartment wasn't a patch on the skirmishes between P Altman Esq, and Ms H Tradescant Spinster which had ended up as manic, monumental arguments over little things.

How she cleaned the shower before she finished.

That ended up with them making mad love on the bathroom floor, twisted in towels and knocking the loo roll stack flying.

Or the row they had over what side of the bed was his and which side was hers.

They ended up top to tail, in hysterics as Phillip sucked her toes, and Helen tickled his feet.

Katherine had put in for a better paid job at a rival company, a hasty farewell party (which he had not attended) and gone, onwards and up some other executives trouser leg faster than a rat up a drain pipe.

The Office heaved a sigh of relief as Katherine was replaced by Beth.

And Phillip.

And Phillip....

Lay in his huge bed diagonally, just for fun.

Starfish.

===========

Helen didn't do posh very well, despite her classy accent she hated anything with a veneer of snobbishness, and sat opposite was the American attempt at snobbery.

"Please call me Hilary, I insist"

The restaurant was comfortable, classy and out of Helen's price range, but a squeak into Mark Deet's ear one morning for a little of the petty cash, as it was a work related lunch after all, and Helen felt much more comfortable.

"Of course Hilary."

"And yours?"

"It's Helen"

Now Hilary Altman had not put two and two together after all Phillip's descriptions. 

Face to face with the woman who'd caused her baby so much heartache, she wasn't sure if she ought to have called over the waiter and asked for the cheque, then battered the young woman over the head with the card reader. 

But Helen was different.

She was confident and classy.

Unabashed, English and clear headed.

Those qualities stood well with Hilary, who was bored of women who paid her lip service, bowed and scraped for a little attention from a successful best selling novelist.

To the natural blonde, held back in a tidy french knot, a blue blouse, smart and practical navy trouser, Hilary Altman was only one of thousands of best selling novelists.

Miss Helen Tradescant had the whole of the literary outpourings of several continents at her fingertips. All the sciences, all the arts, all the law and the medical profession. All the romances and tragedies, the history, politics and mathematics.

Hilary had her family's dirty laundry.

It had been three months since Phillip had asked for his key back.

"So you're Helen!"

The subject under scrutiny by the head of the family nodded her head slowly, knowing what was coming next.

"I should have admitted it to you last week, I'm sorry, I wanted to know what you really thought of me, I wasn't sure if you would be honest to my face, so I tricked you."

"Well that's just..."

"I expect you wonder why a man like your son would've gone for a woman like me, I half wonder myself sometimes."

Helen held her head up, she had nothing to be ashamed of, Hilary Altman was the Patriarch, what could she do to her that Helen hadn't already done to herself? She didn't care if this woman loathed her or liked her now.

"No, I can see now why Phillip's attracted, what I can't understand is why he's not with you now"

"I don't - ?"

"Come on don't play coy, you're successful, smart, that's been obvious since I met you, head on your shoulders. Actually now I think of it, the question should be the other way around. Why would someone as intelligent as you go for someone like my son, he's not got a great track record?"

"Maybe not, but neither have I"

"I don't understand"

"Would you believe me if I told you that 5 years ago I was living out of cardboard boxes and kipping on my next door neighbours couch?"

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly, my parents had moved, my boyfriend kicked me out, if it wasn't for a friend at the Library I would, well... I dread to think where I'd be now."

"Books saved your life?"

"You know, that's such a nice way to put it Hilary, yes, I think they did."

"And my son came in and tore it all down for you?"

"Not all of it, he gave me something to fight at first, something to push against, when I found he liked me, then I was the one who did the pushing, and I pushed him away."

"You're one of the more sensible of my son's conquests, there have been a lot."

"He's sensible when he wants to be"

"That doesn't sound like Phillip"

"I don't think you give him enough credit Mrs Altman."

A change to surnames as the seriousness of the conversation increased. 

"A woman standing up for my son is odd, I thought you had torn him in two, that's what he told me."

Helen would like to know what else Phillip had told his mother, she expected it would be everything. Oh well, the woman hadn't taken her by the hair and dragged her out into the street. 

Not yet anyway.

"I loved him I think, for a while, in my own way. He's helped me even though he doesn't know it. And I hope you won't re-iterate any of this to him Mrs Altman, the relationship is at an end, I don't want to cause any trouble."

"Oh he is quite capable of causing that for himself Helen, and please... call me Hilary, you think a few home truths about my son are going to surprise me? I could tell you tales that would have your hair standing on end."

"So you left some things out of your first book then?"

Helen took a calming sip of her drink, the worst bit was over, and she was still in one piece.

"Of course, I knew that my kids would hate me for the rest of their lives if I told the whole truth."

"That explains a few holes in the narrative, I wonder?"

"What?"

"Well, that bit about the oven mitts?"

"Oh dear yes, that did happen"

"Help, I've stood next to him in his store"

Hilary laughed, taking a mouthful of white wine and smiling at Helen's choice of soft cherry cola.

"He was always experimenting, I shan't give you any nightmares with stories about his sister, but Phillip, he never had a filter, never seemed ashamed of what he was, or what he liked to do, I always thought that more freeing, more natural, healthier."

"The quiet ones are always the ones to watch, you mean?"

"Exactly, I've often wondered why I'm closer to Phillip than the others, maybe that's it, he was always such a Mommy's Boy, always wanting to please me."

Helen smiled as the waiter put down their orders, Hilary went with an expensive, warm Caesar Salad.

Helen was happy with a cheap, hot Soup of the Day.

"All of Phillip's other girlfriends have either run away or tried to impress me, why haven't you done either of those things?"

"Because I'm not his girlfriend, and you don't frighten me."

"No I don't, do I?"

"No"

"Hmm, the last one was trying my patience, and I only met her once, actually, I think I'd better tell you this, you're a big girl you can handle it. She tried to pretend she was you."

Took a sip of her wine to cover the smirk.

"Me?"

"I'd made a mistake, I thought she was you, this child with long hair and legs forever pretended to be you. Even came round to the house and answered to your name."

"I don't know what to say"

"Well I did, I knew exactly what to say."

"What did Phillip, sorry... your son do?"

"Looked shell shocked, upset and angry. Took her home and came straight back to me, he was a mess."

"Why?"

"She was making life difficult for him, I told him to get rid, kick to the curb, someone who pretends to be someone else needs to take a long hard look at themselves."

"Oh I see"

"Sorry Helen, I thought you ought to know."

Hilary had no idea how much the kindly meant words were costing the woman on the other side of the table.

"I hope he's happier now?"

"I haven't heard from him, work's got busy, he's out of the country a lot nowadays."

"He had the promotion he wanted then?"

"He did, oh he told me how you met, that's what I wanted to ask you about."

Hilary pushed the bowl to one side and leant in towards Helen.

"How we met?"

"Yes, says it was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, what song did you use to get him out of his girlfriend's bed?"

Helen blushed, cleared her throat and picked up her drink. 

"Around the World by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers"

Spoken in a hurry over the top of her glass with a half smirk on her face.

"So it was memorable for you too, I can see by the look on your face, oh you'll do, you'll do very nicely. Phillip's at work till 7 this evening, I want you to come around to me for dinner, no, no argument, if you're free, I think you two should sort this all out."

"I think you ought to keep out of things which aren't any of your business Hilary"

Well Helen that was brave, especially when she saw the look on Mommy Dearest's face.

Shock and awe.

"Look, I appreciate the thought, but there is no 'Us' anymore, he's moved on and so have I, we don't need each other, we never did."

Hilary lifted her wine and drank it down to the bottom.

"Well it's too late now, and you're doing okay for yourself, you didn't need him, I can see that."

"I'm sorry for how I treated him, I was selfish and self obsessed, if I could take it back I would, he did me a favour when he rejected me. It focused me, I was a mess for a while, but you can't let life drag you down, you have to fight!"

"And isn't my son worth fighting for?"

Helen looked up from the table where she'd been gazing through her last statement.

"Someone else needs to fight for him, he'll find someone he really loves."

"At the moment that seems to be himself, you do know he's single right now?"

"No, I've not spoken to him for some time."

"Not at all?"

"Only when I went to the apartment to collect my books."

"You weren't living together?"

"No, I told him I didn't want to."

"You told Phillip No?"

Helen nodded her head, sad to be reliving it all again, somehow irritating the wound was helping to heal it. Thinking of Phillip as a stepping stone to something else, was cathartic.

Especially now she knew what had been going on at his work.

He'd only asked her to move in to cover his guilt over Katherine. Again the Spider Sense Helen had, steered her clear of a very big mistake.

"He doesn't like being told no"

"I'm aware of that."

"Yet you still did."

"I was too wrapped up in my own self importance, he was too wrapped up in Katherine it seems, I wonder how long it was going on for before he asked me to move in?"

"He told me it didn't begin till a week after you left."

"I didn't leave, he asked for the key back, I never moved in, never got as far as leaving any of my clothes there, not a hook behind the door for my coat even."

"Helen really?"

"It was partly my fault, every time he asked I refused, and that bloody apartment of his, god the whole place feels cold, like it's allowing you to live in it, that you have to behave, not show any individuality. You know he had to show me where the plugs were so I could make a cup of tea, the whole place is ridiculous."

Seems our Helen can't help but unbeknowingly criticise Hilary Altman's taste in everything!

"Phil, he got sick of me playing hard to get, I can't blame him, I was impossible to be with. I never gave an inch, yet I took miles."

"So Katherine lied about that too."

"Sorry - I'm not with you"

"She told me that she and Phillip started back in April."

"Well perhaps they did, I've no idea."

"And he told me at the end of June, what the hell?"

"I should leave that for you to puzzle Hilary, it's nothing to do with me anymore."

Yet Helen's pounding heart and dry mouth said otherwise.

It explained a great deal.

It also left a lot of unanswered questions.

Did Helen want the answers?

No.

_ 'It's nothing to do with me anymore" _

_ =========== _

"I don't need you, you're always telling me what to do, just let me live how I want to, okay?"

His mother was noise, it was like listening to static, white noise.

Helen's conversation had been given to him almost verbatim, so much for her asking Hilary to keep it to herself.

Mommy Dearest played it rough.

"Phillip, fight for her honey, she's worth it."

"Mom, this is nothing to do with you."

"That's what she told me, quite a livewire you picked there, I like her."

"Damn right, Helen's sensible, why didn't you just..."

"I invited her for dinner tonight"

"You did  _ what _ ?"

Phillip, wide eyes and incandescent stood from the chair and walked angrily into the kitchen.

"Calm down Phillip please, honey... she thanked me, but refused."

How dare his mother interfere in his life. 

He needed no matchmaker, he was quite capable of finding a woman to share his life with, to wake up with, to soothe his aching head, snuggle up close on the sofa and watch rubbish TV. 

To be himself with.

He could find another Helen any time he wanted.

Someone who introduced him to all the things she liked, because she wanted to share how they made her feel, and watch the joy when he found he liked them too.

Someone who wouldn't talk for hours because they didn't need to fill the space with uncomfortable unwanted chatter, just so he could listen to her breathe.

Someone who tickled and teased without expecting him to fuck them senseless over the kitchen table, to hold him close, to rock and to be rocked to sleep after a busy day.

To tickle his feet and laugh with him.

"Phillip honey, you're not happy, I can see you're not. Can't you speak to her, tell her how you feel?"

"Just because you've written a book about relationships Mom doesn't make you an expert on mine, leave it... alone."

"Stubborn, just like your father."

"I'm nothing like my father, I hardly knew my father"

"Phillip!"

"No, I'm sick of people wanting to control what I do, where I go, how I dress, what I eat, how I think. Mom I'm sick of this bullshit and... and..."

Anger is a good way to deflect problems, although when the dam bursts the resultant flood is too fast, too destructive. So instead of the fight he wanted, he burst into tears like a child, hands gripping the side of the kitchen counter.

Hilary swerved him back to the sitting room, sat beside him, not touching him till the sobs subsided and he stopped shaking.

"You love her?"

"No"

"Liar"

"Mom please, this isn't helping."

"And pretending Helen doesn't exist isn't helping you either honey."

"I suppose you think I'm weak?"

"No Phillip, you're scared, that's good, means you care, when you don't care..."

"Stop analysing me Mom, Tracy tried that, little did I know I'd just be another of her test fuckin subjects, just like I am with you, I bet you'll have that  _ fuckin  _ notebook out when I'm gone, writing all this bullshit down for the next shitty expose of our family. Do you realise how much that's affected any of us, do you  _ even care _ ?"

Family truths are never easy to swallow, and by the look on Hilary's face, she was finding the pill very bitter.

"Helen asked you not to tell me any of this, and yet you couldn't wait could you?"

"You needed to know."

"You were fuckin bursting to tell me, now who's spiteful?" 

Face in his hands he shouted through a stuttered indrawn breath.

"I can't trust you with anything. I daren't ask how much of my bullshit you told Helen earlier. How dare you do that to her, you think how any of this would make her feel, did you think for one moment how telling her would affect her?"

"Phillip please... I only meant"

"I know what you meant, irritating the wound to heal it, well it's irritated and fucking livid at you for this. How dare you even speak to Helen!"

"I met her through the book"

"The book the book, that  _ fuckin _ book!"

"You should have brought her to meet me before, this would not have happened"

"You want to know why I never brought her to meet you, no wait, you really wanna know? Because you compete, every fuckin time you treat it as if they're your competition. And with someone like Helen, who's already sensitive, self conscious and unconfident about everything she is, you'd have taken her apart, bit by bit and then what? Put her back together again as you thought fit?"

"She's perfectly capable of seeing me off, capable and willing to do so, it didn't matter who I was, she knew you were my son and still told me straight what she thought. That's rare and fresh Phillip, don't blame me for your own inadequacies, you fucked things up for yourself, you treated her like a possession, another object, don't try to blame me for any of this"

Neither of them would back down.

Neither of them thought they were in the wrong.

And after a hurried farewell and storm out of the house, Hilary went to see Linda, drowned her sorrows in Chardonnay and wished she'd never even opened her mouth.

==========

Phillip went to see Helen.

Not expecting that were you?

Neither was she.

==========

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOoooohhhhhh a CLIFFHANGER!!!!!
> 
> My first - I am so loving this!!!!
> 
> Love Ya  
> Morby


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip has gone, against his better judgement, to see Helen, after his Mommy's interference, he thinks it best to check that Helen is alright.
> 
> Maybe to apologise to her for the things his mother bought up.
> 
> Maybe to apologise for all the hurt he has caused her over the last three months. For every time he's been stupid, thoughtless, mean, flaunting his (now) ex girlfriend in front of everybody.
> 
> Will Helen slam the door in his face?
> 
> She has every right to do that, she doesn't love him anymore, she doesn't need him anymore. 
> 
> Its non of her business anymore.
> 
> Is it?

  
  


Normally;

In this kind of situation; 

She would have demanded he leave. 

That's what the last boyfriend had done; 

To Helen.

Normally;

In this situation; 

She wouldn't be making him a warm drink and sitting opposite with her own, listening to his apologies and secretly;

Wanting Phillip to stay the night.

The last boyfriend never gave her that option, so Helen had her wits about her and kept a polite non-committal distance.

Phillip was tainted; 

Phillip was culpable; 

Phillip was hurtful.

He was also very upset.

But not at her.

At his Mom.

And how could she turn him away?

She didn't feel ashamed of her life, she felt proud with her things around her, the Altman Bookshelf behind, over her shoulder. 

All his notes; 

All his cards;

All her memories of him.

When she saw Phillip on her doorstep, hair flying, that little flick of brown just over his left ear, his breath rapid and eyes bloodshot.

Realising he'd come to her, no one else. 

She felt powerful.

She felt honored.

And worried for him.

Wondered whether to take control of the situation by turning him away.

Helen's parents had turned her away. 

Helen's door was thrown wide open, making Phillip welcome.

Making him comfortable enough to pour out the last three months of hurt and loneliness, infidelity and callousness as she listened and tried not to judge.

Phillip wanted to hold and be held, it showed in his body language. 

Tilting forward towards her when he wanted to be sincere.

Leaning back when he tried to calm, as he found his intensity had been too much. 

Helen was gradually, decidedly, backing away.

"I got lost Helen"

Rubbing circles in the back of an aching neck.

"We both did Phillip"

"I need a map to get home Hels"

Desperate, not pleading but asking, requesting. 

Yearning for her comfort.

"I don't have one anymore."

There, she'd said it, now she'd rejected him properly.

Kindly, gentle almost.

It was time to go.

Standing in the light of the hallway, kicking the back of his expensive shoe with his other foot, Phillip looked exactly as he had done the night he'd picked up Janine.

"If you need someone to listen, you know where I am."

"Thanks"

"Before you go, may I ask you something?"

Phillip brightened, leant up against the door frame, his hand resting on the top cill.

"You worked at Altman's Sports one year, didn't you?"

A little puzzled at the question, nodded.

"Someone sent me a Recurve bow and all the equipment, out of the blue, totally unexpected, I returned them of course, I thought perhaps they were stolen, or worse, Paul had sent them. Now I think... did you send them to me?"

Phillip still had them in his closet, the rolled up target and his note; 

Collecting dust.

"I watched you and your friends that day in the store, when you shot all those golds, my tongue was on the floor, you were magnificent, Hels"

"Hmm, well thank you, I suppose, for the thought." 

"You even sent my note back"

"Sorry?"

Helen, closing the door.

"My note, I wrote you some soppy love note when I was drunk one night, I rolled it up in the paper target. I'd never felt so hurt."

Hanging his head watching his reflection in the shine of his shoe.

"I never got any note, goodnight Phillip"

The door closed with a gentle click, now he'd never felt so alone. 

Looking at the black painted barrier, holding his forehead against the warm wood, he took a deep breath and unsteadily walked out of the apartment block to his car.

Phillip Altman had his heart handed back.

From gentle caring hands.

And he felt.

Relieved.

==========

Helen looked wonderful.

Sitting there in her work clothes, smart, professional, desirable. Phillip knew she was worth more than he could give her. 

And yet.

He couldn't deal with her rejection.

Move on now Phillip.

Put down some roots if you like, working for the rat race, you will have to learn to run faster, with the other rats.

Helen looked wonderful; 

And that night he thought he could fool himself into thinking that he could still smell her on his sheets. 

They'd made mad love on this bed; 

Countless times.

Fucked each other into states of ecstacy; 

Laughed at each other; 

Rolled around in hysterics, giggling, burying themselves in each other's generous, strong arms. 

Stealing kisses;

Tasting; 

Touching;

Never telling. 

Loving, exciting and wanton.

The famine of emotion in his heart, he ached to be free of the memories, but hoarded them like some gothic heroine trying to hold on to sanity. 

Henry James eat your heart out!

No more care free recklessness. 

His walls had come tumbling in and it was all on his shoulders.

The day in the stall with Charlie/Charlotte/Katherine, then meeting her again at work, then in the lift, then at his desk, on his desk, all were signals of the end of his life. 

A lift of skirt which didn't give a shit about him; 

Didn't care for his feelings.

Only for those that his dick could bring out of her;

In a hurry.

The type of woman who came after three minutes and left the room after five.

Helen had stayed to dance; 

With him;

For hours.

Laughed and giggled herself to tears;

With him;

For weeks. 

Smiled and hugged him dizzy stupid;

For months, just to be close to him, then distanced herself when he wanted to get serious.

Phillip Altman, you serious?

Get out of town!

Phillip Altman and commitment?

Stop the world, we wanna get off!

No wonder he knee jerked into Katherine when Helen told him no. 

Katherine wanted the commitment. 

Helen hadn't got in touch at all, in any way shape or form, not even smoke signals over the last months and that, to Phillip, was the clue. 

She wanted what the other women wanted too.

No that was unkind, Helen wanted something else.

And it was simple.

_ 'Reassurance' _

That she wasn't invisible, she was worth something to somebody, and what she wanted wasn't unimportant.

Burying his face in the sheets, he knew he could still smell her, the lemon scent had lingered, her taste, salty sweat, tangy viscous love on his tongue, he ran it around his mouth; 

Sucked his tongue in memory of her. 

His hands around his waist began to stroke flesh, imagining arms embracing him, taking him in closer, for a kiss.

Whispering her name in his empty bedroom, he felt comforted, just for a little noise, just to imagine her breathing, hair tangled with his own, spitting it out of his mouth, to breathe her in, and exhale.

A frown of concentration and his hand wound around his dick. 

Gentle at first, mimicking her caresses.

Then as he became more aroused at the thought of Helen; 

Lying by his side;

He could hear her whispering memorised paragraphs from her favourite books, singing memorised lyrics from her favourite songs. 

Phillip began to stroke, harder and harder, desperately needing release, he slowed down, Helen wouldn't have tugged the way he did.

She was always so gentle with his dick. 

'Your Cock' 

As she called it. 

An English slang term (amongst so many others) that he loved to hear her say as she kissed his waist, drawing down to ask the question again and again.

But he'd denied her even that, and she'd wanted to, the brave act of taking him in her mouth, and every time the same response.

"Thank you no, maybe another time"

Sex was not a relationship.

Sex was not the be all and end all, as he came weakly over his fist, ashamed, forgotten and dirty. 

The endorphin serotonin kick lasted seconds, to be replaced with regret and loneliness.

Everybody makes mistakes.

But they feel alright; 

As long as no one sees them.

==========

Helen knew.

Of course she did;

She'd been watching his every move for five years, been close to him for eight months.

She lay on top of her bed staring at the ceiling, she could still see the discoloured spot when the light was right.

Wondering, pondering, analysing Phillip's every movement, mannerism, micro frown, came to an uncomfortable conclusion.

He would only talk about how it all made  _ him _ feel.

Himself.

As per fucking usual.

He really had no idea how his visit had affected her, and he stood like some foolish teenager in the doorway, kicking his heels, unable to make up his mind.

Man about the house?

Not on her watch.

She fell asleep.

She never had the dirty dreams anymore.

She didn't need them.

==========

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

Phillip opened a reluctant eye and looked at the clock at the side of the bed.

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

02.56am

He closed his eyes; 

More than likely some drunk trying for a bed for the night; 

Maybe his brother Paul, perhaps his wife had kicked him out the house after an argument.

Perhaps just for a quiet moment, tired of her demands for bareback penetration, she wouldn't leave him alone when she was ovulating.

The woman was still demanding a baby.

Phillip thought it selfish.

Adopt a child.

One that had no choice and was left behind.

Or one that had lost parents through no fault of its own.

And not a baby.

Older children were in desperate need of guidance.

And love.

He should know.

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

He rose from the bed, threw on a tee and opened the door with an angry flourish.

==========

He didn't need to imagine anymore.

His playmate had returned. 

Looking upset and angry.

==========

"So..."

"So"

"It's late"

"You mean it's early"

"You wanna come in then?"

Stepping into the world of Hilary Altman and her interior decorating sideline. 

Or;

_ 'How To Control My Youngest Son's Life In One Easy But Expensive Move' _

Helen took a temper stroll through the apartment, that gloomy, designer shag pad and whirled to face the architect in her dirty nightmare.

"What do you think you were doing earlier doing Altman, you can't just come swanning back and expect me to help you when your Mommy tells you off."

Phillip, rubbing sleep from his eyes, bumped into the side of the sofa, like he always did.

Fung Shui

Fung Shit!

"I... I wanted to..."

Sloping off, rubbing his bruised knee, collapsed exhausted on his mommy's sofa.

"I want to know what you thought you were gonna get when you came over, did you expect i'd roll over, take you back, let you fuck me, was that it, was that all you wanted?"

"No"

Sleepy head.

"Liar"

Helen's rage was warming up.

"I needed to talk to someone kind"

"About yourself, it's always about yourself, you selfish bastard."

A knee bruised, jerked, the foot kicked the immovable glass coffee table. 

Now he had two new reasons to rub his skin.

"You think I..."

"Oh poor you, poor hurt, abandoned, distressed Phillip Altman, you wouldn't stop blathering on about how lonely you'd been, how you felt so fucking guilty, and how you wished you could take it all back. What do you want me to do, rub your back and tell you're forgiven?"

"Something like that yeah, but rubbing my foot would be a Good Samaritan thing right now oww"

"This flat bites back, I always knew it didn't like anyone living in it, Monster House, fuck off Altman, I'm not touching your leg."

"So why are you here, waking me up at 3am?"

He stood, pulled the sleep shorts from up his ass and held out his hand to her.

"I... no hang on, eww don't touch me, I wanted to tell you how selfish you are, how much you've hurt me, no leave me alone, all you talk about is yourself." 

Helen slapped his hands away, secretly laughing as he hobbled like some pathetic invalid towards her. 

She was standing in free space.

"I miss you"

"I dont miss you"

She scoffed.

"Liar"

Those eyes, full of sleep and now raised to her mouth.

"I'm not... don't touch me please, do you think it's been easy for me, watching you with someone else? You think that I can put it all away, shove it to the back of my mind and let you off the hook, just because you're all upset at Mommy, had a row with Mommy, you make me sick"

She mocked the American accent, she squeaked the Mommy.

She had been chased up a tree in her nightmare.

By Mommy Dearest. 

"No, of course not."

"How dare you even consider it, running back to Mommy was always a problem, Mommy is your problem, not mine."

Phillip, leaning, then sitting on the back of the sofa, pulled his hand through bed head, sighed and smiled.

"And you wondered why I never took you to visit her... right?"

"I do, as Katherine, darling fucking  _ Katherine  _ seems to have been invited."

"Hmm - that."

Helen was raising her voice, Phillip took a deep breath and let her express herself. This was the first time she'd even attempted to tell him anything about how she really felt.

"Hmm yes THAT, and Hilary told me what she said, that she said she was me, and you fuckin let her, the stupid bitch, you thoughtless, immature, tosser!"

Another English slang word, he wanted to write them all down in a notebook, keep them like plastic D&D dice, they were so pretty, so funny.

So Dirty British.

"I wanted to see if she could pull it off."

That was the truth, he loved watching people interact with each other, as an observer he had the opportunity to sit back and watch the fireworks he'd lit explode, and paint flowers in the sky.

"Cruel, you pitted one against the other."

"My Mom argues for America, she's the world's best at being bitchy, I just needed her to fight Katherine off for me, and Mom told you everything?"

Sitting back down, he pulled at Helen's arm, tried to persuade her to follow, all she did was walk away.

"Hilary think's she's so superior, now she's met me."

Phillip smiled to himself, scratched his goatee.

"I should've known you were a match for her, I underestimated your..."

"Snootiness?"

"I'd say sophistication, but then, you never agree with my opinion, you never have."

Helen looked at the floor, anywhere blank for rest as she built herself up for the next barrage.

"If you had any respect for yourself Phillip, you'd never let her treat you like she does."

"Treat me like what, and will you please come round here and face me, I'm tired of turning my head, talking to you behind my back is exhausting"

Reluctant, her shoes were sticky, superglued to the floor.

"Mommy treated you like shit, and you let her get away with it. You let Katherine get away with it too, you're a spinless arseole."

"I thought I deserved it."

"No one deserves to be treated like an object Phil."

"Did I treat you like that?"

And now the superglue became tacky, loosened its grip on the tiles and allowed her to move. But the hands remained in her jeans pockets.

"Sometimes yes you did, I felt like I was on probation when I came here, this fucking Mommy Purchase."

"You never liked it here, did you?"

Watching as she looked at the bare brick walls and generic art hanging on the walls. A black and white photo of The Golden Gate Bridge, a large white rose close up, New York from above.

"Nope"

"Why?"

Like he needed to ask, he could see the sneer he loved on her top lip forming, wanted to brush it with his index finger, then poke her in the eye with his thumb and catch her as she fought him back.

"Because it's cold, it's gigantic, I feel like Mrs bloody DeWinter in here."

"Rebecca?"

"No you half wit, Joan Fontaine!"

Helen needed to stay focused, she needed to stay mad at him. Somehow, sitting there nursing a throbbing big toe, dressed in black sleep shorts and over washed tee, he looked as at home as she felt.

He looked so handsome.

"So now I'm a half whit, as well as an arseole, a tosser... I'm collecting the English nicknames tonight."

"They're all deserved, I'm gonna use some more by the time I'm finished, and you can shut that clever mouth of yours, stop that, no let go... I'm not staying. I only wanted to tell you not to expect me to fall into your arms every time you call. I'm there to listen, but I'm not having any more of your self pity Altman."

Phillip had held out his hand, pulled at her jeans, trying so hard to get her to sit down next to him. 

He gave up as she swatted him away.

"I had to put up with yours for 8 fuckin months Tradescant."

Now he was getting frustrated, encouraging her to tell him more and more. If she stayed arguing with him, at least she'd still be here, in his sphere, in his eyeline.

It was like it had been at the start.

And those times, the chase, the pursuit, the circling from above had been so captivating. He'd had to work for something.

Earn her.

Just like A03 comments.

You have to put in the work, and the time, you have to earn the rewards of kind words and encouragement.

"Hmm, isn't that what a boyfriend is supposed to do Altman, you're such a wanker sometimes."

Hand out of pocket and on her hip, he spotted his favourite muffin flavour, patted the seat pad at his side, slowly.

Did he catch a smile?

"And you've had more practice than I have Tradescant, you're the world expert at self pity, and 'wanking' - hot damn I love that word, it's so filthy..."

"I am not"

Did he...

_ Catch her grinning? _

Helen remembered why she was here, stepped back a pace out of Phillip's reach, she'd been close to answering his request.

"Every time I paid you a compliment you'd bat it back with some nasty remark, you look nice Hels, I put my makeup on in the dark, Hels you look great in baggy jeans... oh they cover a multitude of sins, what's that all about?"

"That's just me being funny"

"Do you see me laughing?"

"Well it was only a joke."

"Not funny, not clever, always against yourself, and while we're on the subject of self pity...  _ sweetheart _ , you do know you are always putting yourself down. I've never seen you admiring how you look in a mirror."

"It's vanity to keep looking in mirrors."

Prude, old wives tale, whiny and very Madame de Tourvel.

"It's also self aware, it builds your self esteem"

"Oh hark at the amateur psychologist."

"I was your boyfriend, it was my job to notice, like you said, I always thought you looked good, you always do. I'm positive you think if you insult yourself that leaves no opportunity for someone else to do that to you."

"Shut up"

Helen shoved her hands deep in her baggy jeans, to Phillip's amusement, they dipped and gave him a glimpse of her belly button.

One of his many, favourite kiss spots.

He unconsciously licked his lips.

Helen pulled up her trousers and turned away.

"I won't shut up, maybe the last boyfriend did that to you, I've no idea, you never talk about him, no hush ya' mouth Hels... you had some idea that it was protecting your feelings, insulting yourself, that's control. Life's chaos, you can't control everything."

"I won't talk about my ex, not to you, you don't want to hear it."

Helen wanted to tell Phillip, she wanted to let the genie out the bottle, remembering Sabu on the beach, and wishing for a pan of his mother's sausages.

"Don't I?"

Sincere, hopeful.

She was hopeless.

"No, it sounds like I'm whining."

"For fucks sake, did you hear me say... I want you to talk to me, I want to know everything, then maybe I'll understand why you were so distant, you never let me get into your head at all did you?"

"Yes I did"

A step closer.

"No you didn't, you only showed me the surface, what you liked to read, listen to, watch on the tv."

Daring to move his right hand from the back of the sofa, he left her to descend, sit apart, but next to him.

At last.

The devil was waiting to get closer.

He would have to wait.

"I let you eat me out, how is that not letting you in?"

Adjusting her position, sitting upright.

She was tired;

She was upset.

His calm voice was winning her over.

NO NO NO.

"I want your mind Hels, I want to live in there, I want to help show you that you're so much more than what you think you are, hell damn it woman, you're hard work."

Leaning forward to match her position, hands on his knees.

Bare knees.

The hair on his calves she remembered;

Was incredibly soft.

"I'm a woman, we're supposed to be hard work."

"Well you have it down to a fine art honey, it's working very well."

He stood suddenly, turned and walked away.

"Smart arse Altman"

"I've been called worse, you wanna come to bed and let me show you how smart it is?"

Cheeky intent, his grin that pulled a smile from her lips that she did not intend to make.

Phillip knew.

He always knew.

He'd won the argument.

He didn't deserve to.

He wasn't out of the forest yet, he'd found the girl, he stood closer, followed her eyes and knew where she was looking.

"And there we are, your first reference to sex being the be all and end all."

"And that's my point, we're great in bed, you make up your mind and act on it, you're powerful, majestic, you're wonderful and funny, fucking incredibly exciting, you don't critisise yourself when we're making love, yet when we're in the store, or walking down the street, doing something totally mundane you're unable to reach any descision, you close up, clam up and critisise."

"I have to."

Looking at the books on the table, she recognised one and smiled.

_ '30,000 Years of Art' _

You could hardly miss it, it was bright yellow.

"No one is against you Helen, only yourself."

"Fuck off Altman."

Reached over and opened it, flicked through the pages.

"Fuck off yourself, now come up here, and kiss me."

He stood over her, he'd rub his semi against her shoulder if he thought he could get away with it.

"I've just spent the last three months getting over you and putting my sorry life back together again, I'm not gonna..."

"And there you go again, you're not even aware that you do it..."

Sitting down, much closer to her now, stroking her arm, covered in dark blue sweater wool.

"Do what?"

She didn't look up from the Phaidon book, reading about The Fuller Brooch, AD880, a silver disc covered in figures representing the senses.

"Oh for fucks sake... you don't have a sorry life, if it's any consolation my mother was impressed, first time she met you she knew not to take the piss."

Helen smiled to hear him use one of her expressions, turned her concentration back to a Shakko-dogu Figurine from Japan, 700BC.

"She described you back to me, sophisticated, mellow, calm, asked me what you saw in me... in me! And yeah you can laugh, but she did, and trust me Tradescant, my mother is a harpy, if you impressed her then... well even I can't do that."

"Your mother doesn't frighten me Altman."

She folded the book closed, leant her chin on her hand on her arm on her knee.

And sighed.

"She frightens me!"

"You need a barrier, you need a St George to defeat your dragon, am I right?"

Helen turned her face to watch Phillip giggle.

"It would help at Hanukkah!"

"Hmm"

And back to her original position.

"Helen, I know it's over, but please, I need you to understand that I was so frustrated at how you treated yourself that I got lost, I thought trusting to my old patterns was the answer. It wasn't, and I've made you pay dearly for it." 

His hand holding the back of the sofa, the other on his knee, he daren't touch anything else for fear it might break, content right now, just to hear her breath.

And that was erratic, stuttered and deep.

"Five years of chasing you around town, writing you notes, buying you book tokens, trying to be kind, was all for nothing."

"You do know that Burtynsky bought me that basque right, not me?"

The very thought of that garment, now dismantled and sent to the fabric recycling plant had her fuming. 

Bristling to hit out at something, instead sat back with her arms folded over her chest.

"Yes, I knew he did, I heard him ordering another for someone else last month, it was a cheap thrill for him and the fabric felt cheap too, why did you never let me buy you something you liked, something you wanted, something expensive?"

"Dunno"

A shrug against the uncomfortable, blocky, masculine sofa.

"Oh come on yes you do, why did you keep putting me off, I had the woman at 'Burlesque' in the palm of my hand, she had your measurements, why did you cancel the order?"

"Don't know..." 

"Come on, I've talked about me for hours, tell me why you did this."

He slowly sat back, carefully maintaining the distance she'd drawn around herself.

"Oh god, you're making me say this, just you remember that!"

"I will, now spill"

He was leaning back, his head on the headrest, looking up at her, shaking with;

Anger?

Fear?

Anticipation?

"I felt like a whore, does that satisfy you?"

"Christ why?"

"I just did alright."

And then she was standing, whipped up so suddenly that the motion made him jump, another bump of his barefoot on the table had him squirming.

"Ow ow ow... no come on, there's more to this... hang on, you want a drink?"

He was dry.

Parched.

Like when you're driving.

It's nerves.

"The kettle's still here?"

"Sure is, Katherine wanted to bin it, told her to fuck off!"

"That's my man, and the tea bags?"

"You know your way around, I'm going for coffee, I don't have cake, but perhaps cookies, want one?"

"Are we having another midnight feast, Mr Altman?"

"I shall lay out the picnic blanket again my lady..."

"Fool."

"Takes one to know one, but you love me really, admit it, I'm your fool and I always will be!"

"I can feel a nauseating sweet nothing coming my way, do the world a favour Phil, keep your gob shut"

"Oh I love it when you talk in Dirty British, how long does a kettle take to boil again?"

He stood in the open plan, cold feet, throbbing toe, deep in love.

"Well if I keep standing over it, about three million years."

"I've missed you standing there waiting for the kettle to boil, specially when you're in the... what did you call it again?"

He took a step closer, hand slipping over the smooth marble countertop towards her.

"I think you mean - 'In The Nip' - and that's Irish slang, but the Brits love it, you're making me laugh, please shut up Phil"

"Shan't, just try and make me."

"I hate you"

"I know, it's my lovable side emerging at last, ah Coconut Cookies, there is a god... well I'm all set, you hauling ass or what Hels?"

"Alright alright, you Americans have no idea how to make tea."

"If it takes as long as the Chinese then you better wake me when you're finished."

"Can I use your Fresh Prince of Bel Air mug?"

"Hey, that's a family heirloom!"

"I gave you my Mighty Boosh one earlier!"

"I was honoured, felt as if you had blessed me with Britishness, but I still don't get the humour."

"You're forgiven, I didn't think they were that funny to start with to be honest, but it was Joe's and I ..."

"Joe's?"

"Oh, bollocks!"

Helen looked crestfallen, an improving good humoured mood dashed on the rocks as memories of an abusive, boring boyfriend resurfaced.

Phillip saw the light leave her eyes, took a step back, the cookie tin in his hand, wrattled it and smiled.

"Ahhh the plot emerges, 'The Ex' has a name at last, oh Princess of my dreams, emotionless and cold as ice, all of the things I like..."

"And now he begins to sing Duran Duran's 'Electric Barbarella', what was that about being blessed with Britishness again?"

Helen was thankful for the distraction.

Phillip Altman was the bestest distraction of all.

And holding cookies?

Christ, how sexy could you be without actually getting naked?

"I am being converted, under a magic spell cast by Helen La Fey!"

"You're a prat"

"I stand accused, I plead guilty, is that  _ fuckin _ tea mashed yet?"

"Yep, although making it in a mug is against the law, where's the tea pot?"

"Umm"

"Come on Busta Rhymes, what happened?"

"It smashed"

"You broke Denis?"

Flat, unamused, to the point.

"No, umm"

If that toe was rubbed against the floor again it would fall off, this time the naughty little schoolboy was rubbing the back of his neck, trying to look innocent.

And failing miserably.

Helen was wiping the last three months from her memory, how could she turn down that smirk, how could she let that devious, devilish delicious man out of her arms?

"Katherine broke it?"

Ah!

There it was.

A reminder of exactly why she needed to keep the last three months very close to her heart.

"She knew it was yours, the only thing you left behind, and she had to go break the beauty, I bought you that!"

"As a joke, it never poured straight anyway!"

Turning and picking up her mug, poured milk in and swirled the bag.

"You are such a purist and who the hell calls a teapot 'Dennis The Penis'?"

"Drinking tea out of a pot shaped like a knob is being a purist is it? Oh well you love me for it, come on Phil where are those cookies matey, you snaffle all the chocolate chip ones and I will never marry you, even if you beg me."

"No chance of that sunshine"

With a wink and a smile.

"Good"

"Good"

She let him sit on the floor first, making sure there was plenty of space between them. She wanted to be within his reach, she also wanted to make quite sure he knew she was as far away from him as Jupiter's volcanic moon Io.

"Pass the tin?"

"Say please?"

Phillip's sense of humour, never particularly amusing, surfaced. His eyes followed every movement Helen made, he saw the indecision, he also saw the flirt.

She thought she could hide from him, he saw Helen.

He always saw Helen.

He looked out for Helen.

Then he told his idiot semi to take a hike and readjusted his position on the floor, on the blanket he'd thrown hastily over throw cushions from Mommy Dearest's sofa.

The floor was more comfortable, and a level playing field.

Just in case of...

You know...

Nudge Nudge Wink Wink!

"Please Phillip, pass the tin of cookies."

"You have to kiss me for them."

He pouted and closed his eyes, leaned forward suggestively, half expecting her to hit him with a book.

Mouth watering.

"Then I shall do without, it's a bit late for a sugar rush anyway."

"Says the woman who's drinking tea at 03.20am"

He sipped his coffee, then caught sight of a smile, a glint in her eye, the last time he'd seen that she'd been holding the Anal beads.

"And the man who's snorting coffee out of his nose, laughing at me again."

"Only because you seem to have left the tea bag in the mug Sweetie."

That was covered very adroitly Mr Altman!

Well done.

"Don't call me Sweetie"

"Alright Sugar Plum"

"Altman!"

"Yes Honey Bunny"

"You shit, you call me one more sugary nickname and this tea will be used to shampoo you, don't test me!"

"Promises promises"

"Calling my bluff boyo?"

"Your English nicknames slay me, what did you call me one time, was it Bumbery?"

"And he says he's well read, BUNbery - not BUMbery... that's the name of Earnest's invalid brother in the Oscar Wilde play you nit whit!"

"And there's another one, what exactly is one of those, Fruit Salad?"

Helen giggled, couldn't help it, the last time she'd heard someone called 'Fruit Salad' was in an old British sitcom called 'Bottom' which, if she ever did get chance, she would have to introduce him to.

Let her show him how sexually repressed the British  _ really  _ were!

"I think your milk is off, and a nit whit,  _ Mr Altman _ , is a person who is annoying, a fool, someone who is an idiot but doesn't realise, yet is a sightly adorable, kind soul, and if you don't stop looking at me like that I am leaving, right now."

"I shall close my eyes"

And Phillip did, slowly, bottom lip held out, hopeful.

Forever hopeful.

"This milk is definitely off."

"I only came back from Qatar last Thursday, I've not had a chance to buy groceries."

Today was Saturday - well at least I think it was - what time was it again reader?

Oh yeah - Friday night, very very early;

Saturday morning.

Thanks.

Opening his eyes on Heaven, Phillip found Helen looking the other way, covering something perhaps?

"Oh how mundane and domestic you sound, I bet Katherine loved that"

"You gonna be bitchy about Katherine now, because I would love to join in, I've always wanted to have a go at this, women can be so nasty, it sounds like fun."

"Its not, trust me"

"You weren't there to see the fight, you would have laughed your ass off"

He devoured a cookie.

Whole.

"I doubt it, anyway wasn't she arguing with me?"

"Oh god yeah, I did put her right, eventually."

"Hmm, after you'd had your fun, typical I shouldn't have expected you to do anything else. Was she really struggling?"

Naughty Helen, we thought you didn't care, that it was nothing to do with you anymore?

Have you  _ finally _ made up your mind?

Hmm.

"She had no clue, especially when Mom quizzed her about her book."

"That ruddy book of hers, I had to tell her it was good, I thought it a bit mean to tell her I thought it read like a rehash of ideas from the previous, you do know she mentions you again?"

Helen leaned in for the cookie tin, Phillip saved it in the nick of time, a flash of defeat in her eye, she sat upright and took a gulp of too hot tea to cover the slip.

"I've been shown the passages that refer to Mr P. Altman yes, and yes I am blushing."

"Did you really, you know... in your tree house?"

Helen cowering behind 'The Fresh Prince of Bel Air'.

"Oh for fucks sake."

Eyes to the ceiling, embarrassed, hiding his penis behind coral pink porcelain.

Metaphorically speaking.

"Shit you did, you randy little bugger!"

"Oh talk dirty to me Hels, I love it when you do that..."

Leaning over the blanket, on the edge, now taking up two thirds.

Helen didn't move, only looked over his shoulder, towards the door and freedom.

"Shut up, it's just as well she never talks about her own sexual adventures, now there's a book which actually might be entertaining."

Well done Helen, put him down, he's giving you 'The Eye' again, try not to panic. He's the one who is on the backfoot, the one who has the ground to make up.

Be cool.

Be sophisticated.

Don't make it easy for him;

Tell him no;

Then lie back and enjoy his fireworks;

NO NO NO.

"I don't want to know anything about her sexual practices thanks all the same, I'd like to sleep at night, I'd like to sleep next to you tonight, if you want, if you'll let me."

"You ever think without using your cock Altman?"

"Oh I love the way you say that word, say it again Hels."

Flicking his eyelashes.

The foolish flirt.

Keep on working Phillip;

You are proceeding past 'Go' collect $200.

"Cock?"

Now now, no giggling Helen, yes, Mr James May on 'Top Gear' uses it as a term of annoyance, and that's the context you mean it in now.

Not as a term to describe the man in front of you.

The Man;

In front of you;

Not the boy;

In the Treehouse.

Or naked;

At the bottom of the stairs.

Phillip looks ravishing, cross legged on the blanket, tight tee, tight sleep shorts.

DON'T LOOK DOWN HELEN!

Whoops;

Too late.

"It's sending shivers, it loves your luscious voice, it's knocking Hels, you answering?"

"You want me to cut it off?"

How the hell did he know that was where she was looking?

Oh come on;

He's a bloke;

Course he knows;

Just as Helen knows where Phillip has his eyes firmly rooted at this moment.

"I wouldn't mind your hand around it, yeah."

"You are such a git, pass me the cookies, please?"

"You know the rules, if you want the tin, you have to pay in kisses, one kiss per inch moved towards you."

"I could just stand up off the floor and walk over to them."

"Yes you could, but where's the fun in that?"

"It would put you in your place, Hot Stuff."

"I love being put in my place, come to bed."

"Fuck off Altman"

"You first Tradescant, hey that reminds me, I would like to apologise, for shouting at you the last time I spoke to you, when I asked if you wanted a ride home. I'm so sorry, I meant it to be funny, I didn't realise it was as far from funny as a fart in a lift."

Phillip, you gentleman.

Kinda.

We all knew you had it in you.

Deep down.

Helen was laughing now.

"Christ those books were heavy, that's where your $200 token went by the way."

"Three volumes, I'm surprised that rickety old bookshelf can bear up under the strain of all those books."

"It's made by the same firm that built the bed I think."

"Did you ever get around to buying a new one?"

"After you broke it jumping on me that night, no, I still use the bricks, I didn't see any reason to replace them, it was such a nice memory, I can't ever remember laughing so hard, except when you dressed as The Mummy and made Magenta jump three feet in the air."

Helen scooted further up the blanket, she could almost reach the cookie tin, if she tried.

"Hey, I'd forgotten that, and you were in hysterics, dressed as the sexiest Morticia Addams I ever saw."

"Magenta was battering you around the head with her riding crop, poor Mummy, and you offered to buy me a new bed so many times I could have started my own furniture shop!"

"I almost flattened you that morning."

"Yep, nice sensation that, being crushed by a falling Altman!"

She crept her hand along the floor, he hadn't noticed, she was close to the cookie tin.

"Kinky"

"You love it. Umm... was Katherine ever... you know?"

"Nope, not a bit"

Helen was now on her side, lying next to Phillip cross legged beside her, she had her eye on the prize.

But which one?

The Cookie;

Or the Snack.

"Seriously?"

"No, and believe me, I tried"

A huge sigh in, chest heaving, he'd missed the excitement of Helen and had replaced it with the utilitarian, almost painfully dull sex with Katherine.

Age and experience counted for something then?

"I wouldn't have expected anything less of you! So you've not had anything kinky for the last three months, nothing at all?"

"No, wouldn't even let me eat her out unless she were drunk, that's no fun, she just fell asleep."

"Aww poor baby!"

Don't stroke his leg;

_ Don't stroke his leg; _

**Don't stroke his leg!**

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I kinda understand that, it's a very intimate thing, and mouths have teeth, a mouth in your lady bits..."

"Lady bits!"

He scoff laughed, drew the tin out of her reach and devoured another coconut cookie.

Whole.

Washed it down with the remainder of his coffee.

"Yes, down there is very sensitive, and some ladies just can't bring themselves to let themselves go, poor Katherine, she doesn't know what she's missing."

Present tense...

Be careful Helen!

"You had no trouble, I remember the first time you squirted, I thought you'd just won the lotto!"

"I know I know, you didn't leave me much choice Phil, you were astonishing, I'd never felt anything like it, never knew I could until you decided to grin at me when you had your tongue twisting around my... ahem... lady bits, I was ashamed at making such a mess."

Phillip was roaring with laughter at her fake prudishness.

"Wow was that a five star review, can I put down on my resume that I excite your clit like a boss?"

The cookie needed a chaser, he reached in and took another, nibbled the edge, teasing the woman lying, excruciatingly close, into giving in.

And kissing him.

"For a job as a total arse head, course you can, but I'm warning you, if they want a character reference, I shall be brutally honest!"

"I'Ll be fine, you don't know what jobs I'd be applying for, no problem."

"You just dont give a fuck do you Altman?"

"Nope, except for you of course."

"Bah, sentimentality! Anyway going back to 'Non Kinky Katherine', she probably wasn't very confident... no no wait, hang on 'Mr Talented Tongue', she was 'Thumper' from the bar! You went down on her with gusto, I heard everything!"

Twisting, Helen was now lying, 

On her back;

On the floor.

Phillip swallowed.

Hard.

"And I can't ever forget you did, shit how do you embarrass me like you do, it seems so easy."

"Oh god yeah, Hilary mentioned the Red Hot Chili incident. And embarass you, how the hell do you think I felt, listening to her dirty mouth, ' _ I'm coming'  _ she shouts, who the fuck cares, who has time to say they're coming. You're too busy making sure you don't lose the sensation!"

"My mouth felt so dirty afterwards, just ask my doc. Seeing you and Zoe that night, it mortified me Hels, I popped out of your room mate, I was ready to do epic battle and what do I find at the bottom of the stairs, but two beauties laughing at my semi hard, wet condom covered cock?"

"Alliteration...!"

Helen made it sound like a sneeze

"Yes, you were laughing at my cock"

"And dancing like lunatics, that fuckin tune made the house shake, I thought it needed an earthquake, I knew it was perfect to get you out of bed, and you moved the Earth for me that night too Phil, you made my mouth water."

Phillip was on his side, gazing down at Helen, who was staring at the ceiling, wondering if it were too high for him to hit, point blank.

"I know!"

"And embarrassed, aww my poor baby!"

"Shut the fuck up Tradescant"

He wanted to stroke.

Her jumper had caught the blanket underneath.

He saw flesh.

He saw an opportunity.

Refusing to be drawn down to her.

He was fighting her off again.

And the sensation;

Was;

Wonderful.

"That lamp never covered half your crotch, I got more of a look that night than I ever did of Joe's, but then I'm thankful for small mercies, he was far too big."

"Too big?"

"Yep, it hurts, it's excruciating if your cock hits my cervix, and Joe's did, I was in agony and Joe didn't care, he kept on and on not even noticing how I'd stopped doing anything, trying to cry out the pain, asking him to stop. So please don't give me all that guff about size matters, it doesn't, its technique, it's softness and caring, it's the build up... you should know that"

"It's my fingers teasing your labia, isn't it Hels?"

Phillip tried to make a joke of it, but could see the tears in her eyes at the memory and wanted to hold her close, comfort and promise he'd never hurt her.

Again.

Be kind Phillip - always be kind and she'll take you anywhere you want to go, she'll love you so deep and so long just for being thoughtful.

"There is absolutely no need to remind me, you do seem to know your way around extremely well, these are very high ceilings, no wonder it's always so bloody cold in here"

And shivered to underline the point.

He would not be drawn in by her.

Not yet.

He would not warm her up.

No not yet;

How could she be cold, she was was fully dressed!

"You know your way around me, very well indeed"

Phillip winked, mellowed his voice and smirked.

"Flirt"

"Shut up!"

"Make me... wanna cookie?"

The tin was behind his back, she'd have to climb over to get at it.

That would be fun.

"Is the price still a kiss?"

"A wet, tongue filled, sexy deep throat, yeah."

"Not a peck on the cheek then?"

Turning to face him, she grinned.

"Nope"

"And one kiss equals...?"

"One inch closer to your hand, size matters in this case."

"And if I tip my tea over your head as a receipt?"

Phillip laughed, she looked warm and soft and excited.

"Then I think a shower's in order, wanna scrub my back?"

"Hmm, I'll seriously consider it."

"You do that"

Leaning behind him, took a cookie, crunched it loudly as she watched.

"I shall"

"You gonna let me kiss you Tradescant?"

"When the argument is this much fun, nah."

"Shame"

"Yeah a huge shame, specially since I see the battle of the bulge is being lost, those sleep shorts of yours don't leave much up to the imagination do they?"

She could hardly deny it now could she?

"I thought you were a burglar, I checked I had fresh Johnnies and enough lube, then came to answer the door, make the most of every opportunity I say."

"God man, you make me laugh"

"God woman, you make me horny"

"Shut up"

Helen smiled, her eyes half closed.

"Make me..."

Phillip smiled, his eyes wide open.

"I hate you Phil"

"So you keep saying, come up here and kiss me Hels."

"My tea might go cold."

"It's never bothered you before."

"You mean before Katherine?"

"Umm hmm..."

The moment shifted, now Phillip turned, with his back to the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"So not only did she not have any kinks, she wouldn't let you go down on her either, anything else this gorgeous young brunette didn't do that I should know about?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

Helen sat upright, leaning on her elbows behind her.

"Laugh... oh I'm not making that promise Phil... come on... spill the beans."

"You'll laugh"

He pushed the tin out of her reach, he could see her analysing the distance, getting ready to make her move.

"I won't, well not much anyway"

Sounding coy and looking anything but.

How could Phillip allow this flirty, dirty woman out of his arms?

He ached; 

For another chance.

Behave yourself, and you might just get one.

"I can see it on your beautiful face."

"Yes yes yes, I'm beautiful, now what is this snippet of gossip about Miss Buxom?"

"Ah ha gotcha!"

He punched the air, slapped her thigh and drew up his legs to start running in the air.

"Eh?"

"You just paid yourself a compliment! Ha ha ha, gotcha gotcha gotcha Tradescant!"

He sat up with her, staring right into her stupid face as she began to snigger.

"I didn't"

Shaking her head, denying everything as she considered shutting him up with her tongue.

"Yes you fuckin did, you said you were beautiful!"

Wagging a finger, then tapping it on the end of her nose, dying to brush it against her cheek, put it in her mouth.

"Sheeeettttt"

Bared her teeth as Phillip laughed and rolled back to the floor, clutching that washboard stomach she loved kissing so much. 

"He he he, see I knew I could do it, I knew if I talked as much shit as you do I could get you to slip up."

He would not stop laughing, he would not stop moving.

He would never stop.

He was exciting.

Stupid

Smart.

He was witty, loving.

Vulnerable.

How to resist, how to stay strong after being hurt?

"So if I pay myself another one, could I get a cookie?"

Fuck it... have some fun and to hell with responsibility. 

To hell with the past. 

To hell with everything.

"Are you the Cookie Monster or something?"

Phillip

Oh  _ Phillip _ ...

Try your luck, she's one move away from in your arms.

"If I am then that makes you Oscar the Grouch"

Helen lay back, slapped his bare thigh and put down a very strong urge to stroke it, pinch an inch and watch him squirm.

"I don't grouch"

"Oh you  _ so do  _ if you don't get your coffee before you leave for work!"

"Okay okay... yes you get a cookie if you pay yourself a compliment, but it's gotta be genuine, and I'll know the difference... come on... it's easy..."

Leaning on his side watching how Helen dragged up memories, gave him the side eye, then scowled playfully and buried her face in her hands, drawing up her knees.

"I can read really fast"

She looked at him through her fingers.

"Nope, not good enough, try again..."

A bite of a cookie to antagonise, he really was the worst.

"I have a good memory"

"At this rate I'll be eating all the cookies myself"

"You are already Mr Smart Arse... okay I'm tall."

"That's a simple statement of fact, close but no cigar, again Hels."

Phillip drummed his fingers on the floor, practicing for when he would drum them on her stomach.

"I have long legs, and I can run faster than you."

"Only just, and you had a head start that time."

"Sore loser eh?"

"I was, come on, you're nearly at the Mint Choc Chip cookie stage."

"You have mint ones, you never admitted that you sly bugger!"

"I'm waiting"

"Hang on let me think... oh I have it... I Helen Tradescant, oh god I feel so stupid...."

"Cookies returning to my mouth in five... four... three..."

"I'm a great Archer!"

She almost shouted it, and laughed as his face fell, handing her the tin.

"Fuck... here... you win"

"I'm also a smart arse"

"And a very nice ass too"

_ (in sotto voce) _

_ " _ And although I accept victory graciously and enjoy my cookie as I dip it in my tea, I will gift a kiss to the loser, whom, despite many setbacks, has made me sound like a fool, and I don't care, cos I like sounding like a fool, especially when I'm with him."

"I think I'd better snog you properly for that, come here gorgeous, let me taste that cookie in your mouth."

Helen turned.

Phillip was searching the ceiling, shocked at what he'd said, suddenly ashamed that's all he wanted Helen for.

Felt her cup his chin, stroke his moustache with her thumb, just like she used to.

He didn't deserve the forgiveness he felt in her hands.

She was so gentle.

He closed his eyes;

And she kissed him.

TNT for the brain.

==========

He didn't need to use his hand.

Helen lay next to him, warm, comfortable and wanting him, she'd fallen for him helplessly, hopelessly.

Again.

She'd argued till he had her tight, surrounded in his arms, kissing her silent.

And what a surrender, all at once, as if she'd given him the control back. 

He didn't want to be in control, wanted to be corrupted. 

She was strong and sweet. 

Tempting. 

Delicious. 

Crying against his shoulder, whispering his name over and over. 

Again and again.

He walked her slowly to bed, stripped her clothes, lay next to her, not touching, just watching, feeling her move to get comfortable, helping her get warm in his mausoleum of an apartment. 

Her cold feet resting on his calves.

He wanted to cry out her name, wanted to scream it into the air.

Settle her angry fists on his chest and ask her beat out the guilt;

From his heart, corrupted by youth and easy virtue.

Helen wasn't easy. 

As he put his hand on her hip, shuddered and remembered how the first time with her had felt.

Incredible.

Begging her to play the games with him, make him cum like that every time they fucked, every time, each time, all the time, whenever, wherever she wanted, he didn't care.

He could remember making her that promise and all she did was smile, even went as far to actually refer to it as;

_ 'Making Love'.  _

He'd already become too close, returning his hand to his side, leaving Helen alone on the opposite side of his bed, hugging the sheets, filing them with her scent. 

"I'm cold Philip, won't you hold me?"

"No"

"If I ask you to?"

"No"

Helen lifted her eyes to find him staring back, frowning. She held that amber stare, lifted her hand to smooth his forehead.

"Don't give up on me, Phil?"

"I haven't, but I don't want to start again, don't want any more runarounds, I want you close to me, please don't ask me to go through it all again"

"I'm not wanting to start again either"

"You're beautiful"

"I know, and you made me say it out loud, but now you're scaring me Phil"

The frown returned, Helen tried to sooth it but he caught her wrist and placed her hand gently by her side.

"This is the last thing we do Helen, I'm dreaming all this, except in my dream you're wearing the lemon dress, and you're running away from me, always running away from me."

Closing his eyes, screwing them shut, knew that when he opened them, she'd be gone.

"My lemon dress?"

The dream kept talking to him.

"In my dreams you're in yellow, the lemon dress is always what I see first, your hair was up, a flick caught behind your ear, you had on little duck shaped earrings and your shoes were green Converse sneakers, now it's all I can see, every time I close my eyes."

Now the warmth in her could be felt on his side, Helen was moving closer, winding her legs around his under the sheets and comforter, holding him tight as he tried to wriggle away.

"I still have that cheap dress"

"It's worth it's weight in gold to me"

He would not open his eyes.

"I have it Phillip, it's big on me now, I've lost weight, I'm a lot fitter than I used to be but..."

"Did I just hear you pay yourself compliments again?"

His eyes wide open and swimming in her blue.

"No... I "

"You did, you little... you paid yourself compliments, let me kiss that mouth before you can retract them."

Arms fast and strong held her waist, squeezing her tight against his chest as she giggled and let him kiss her gently, opening her mouth to lick his lips, Helen felt the rumble in his chest and knew what came next.

"Let me in Sweet Pea"

_ "Altman!" _

She growled.

The smirk on his face, he knew he could talk like this for hours, and she never got bored of it, he only called her nicknames to tease.

"Tradescant"

"You're an idiot, did you know that?"

Helen had already wound her arm around his neck and pulled herself closer. He felt her knee graze the inside of his thigh under the comforter.

He was tiptoeing, baby steps.

Too rushed she'd bolt for the door.

Too slow and she'd fall asleep, like Katherine used to.

"Helen"

"Umm humm"

She was nuzzling into his neck.

"You can go, if you want to"

"What?"

"I tricked you into bed, you know that"

"I let you"

"If you... it's not too late to leave"

"Do you want me to go or to stay, are we going to have this foolish guilt trip rear its head every time you want to... umm... rear your head?"

And then she was laughing, close into his neck, the whole of her body against him shuddering as the giggles ramped up into full belly laughs.

"I'm sorry Hels."

"I know, now you going to do something about the erection you're sporting, or what?"

"I don't just want you for that"

"So you said, I was listening you know."

Helen's knee pushed a little further, carefully nudging his scrotum, eliciting a faint yelp, he scooted up the bed, out of reach.

"You don't want me to do this."

"No Phil,  _ I'm  _ seducing  _ you  _ because I'm cold and I need warming up, this is the best way I know."

"Is that all I am to you... a..."

"A sexy hot water bottle, yep, I'm afraid so"

The cold nose which had tickled his ear now drew a line, down his neck and onto his chest. An indrawn breath, he daren't let go of reality.

"A hottie?"

"Thats right!"

Now her hands were pulling at his tee, he tried to pull it back down. Finding resistance Helen swapped to his sleep shorts.

He only had one pair of hands.

To Phillip, Helen felt like she had a hundred.

And she accused him of being  _ 'Handsy' _

"Hels..."

"Umm hummm"

She had her nose in his belly button, licking rings around his tummy, dangerously close to his pubic hair.

"I don't think that's sensible, please - if you're cold let me go and get you one of my tee's"

"Oh... okay"

As she watched Phillip unfold himself from her arms and slip out of bed, he sounded decided; 

Oh well, she'd given him the option. 

And she'd wanted to, he'd worked her up so much the only thing that would slake her thirst would have been him in her mouth, now he was here, gifting his tee, wrapping her up in his clothes.

Not a cheap uncomfortable basque.

Helen felt safe.

Helen felt assured.

Helen felt cared for.

Phillip had drawn back, shimmied over the bed to his 'side' and turned his back on her.

"Thank you."

"Hels, just sleep"

"Okay"

Just as well, Helen's mind was racing, her heart thumping, trying to find a way to bring him back to her side. She couldn't feel him, couldn't hear him, he wasn't touching her.

Except he was.

That tee was surrounding her.

Oh what was the matter with him?

"Could I hold you Phil?"

"No, please leave me alone."

Time after time, this was so foolish.

He had what he wanted, lying next to him. She'd forgiven him, she said.

Forgive yourself then Phillip?

It feels good.

To forgive yourself.

Honest!

It feels like you have let yourself be yourself.

Take yourself on a ride, deep inside your mind where all your 'buts' turn into 'please', you can let yourself go and become the person who you knew you were deep down.

The coffee and cookies in his stomach, spinning his head in a rush, felt a tap on the shoulder. He recoiled and pulled the sheet closer under his chin.

"I can't sleep Phil"

"I've noticed"

"Wanna make love?"

"Who with?"

Phillip turned his head, opened an eye.

"Me Phil"

"Let me think about that for a moment."

As he covered his chest with his hands, Helen snuggled further under the sheets, hiding her head completely, as a child would, with a book under the covers and a torch.

"Hels... what are you... arghhhhhhh, no no noooo..."

Phillip was pulled beneath the sheets, his legs, his calves grabbed by her hands and hauled underneath, an impromptu blanket fort.

Just for two.

"Helen... please just sleep"

"I want to kiss you all over Phil"

"Sleep on this, it's too late for you to leave, go back to your side"

Helen's grin dissolved, all the playful ridiculous conversations, all the testing, chiding, teasing.

Disintegrated.

"Are you sure you don't want this?"

"I'm thinking about what you're gonna do when you realise what I've made you do here, and what I did to you before"

"I want this too"

"No you don't, you don't need me, you never did"

"Phil?"

"Sleep Helen"

And he turned his back, shimmied out from the sheet fortress and returned to his side of the bed, legs straight along the side.

Here's a conundrum.

A Man.

And a Woman

Both loving each other

Separated by nothing but air and cotton sheets.

A One Bed situation.

Helen was left high and dry, no sex, no chance of that now.

Embarrassed.

She hugged the tee to her body.

And slept on the other side of the bed.

==========

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the night before.
> 
> Helen should she leave or should she go?
> 
> With Phillip by her side, its a difficult decision.

_ But I looked up and I was in your arms,  _

_ And I knew that I was captured _

_ What's this whole world coming to, things just aint the same; _

_ Any time the hunter gets captured by the game. _

Helen woke with a splitting headache and regret, just like he said she would. She'd woken hundreds of times in Phillip's arms and always felt safe.

But this time was different.

She was on her own, in his tee.

And he was deep in dreams over the other side of the gigantic bed.

Phillip lay, warm snug and smug, he'd caught her off guard. Helen supposed he must feel so fuckin superior now that he had her back to reject her.

Yet again.

Shows what he knows.

Shows how foolish Helen is, he'd warned her after all.

Retrieving her clothes from the chair where he'd carefully draped them, she dressed hurriedly, put on her shoes and closed the bedroom door.

Somewhere in this echo chamber of an apartment was a Recurve Bow, and if it wasn't stolen, if it were bought for her, she'd have it back.

The cupboard for coats?

Nothing.

The linen cupboard?

Empty - except for his Mommy's purchased linens.

The Pantry?

Full of odds and ends, Phillip didn't do much cooking for himself.

She searched, found nothing, had he been lying when he told her he still had it?

The bedroom;

The wardrobe!

Tip toeing back, careful not to disturb him, he looked so bloody innocent when he slept. She opened the door and found the cardboard tube wedged in the back.

A few shoes and a large grey plastic bag, still sealed shut, fell to the floor as she removed the tube, took it back into the cavernous living room.

A moment later she had the bow assembled.

The string taut, standing upright, adjusted the sight and pulled back. 

A smile and she sat down with the rolled up target on her lap.

She'd come this far, let's see what rubbish a drunken Phillip Altman thought was good enough to get him in her pants all those years ago.

_ My Beautiful Bookworm you've shot me  _

_ through the heart _

_ I want _

_ I need a moment  _

_ To catch my breath _

_ You stand there and ignore me _

_ I don't blame you _

_ I must mean something to you _

_ Because no one hates me as well  _

_ As you do _

_ Except myself _

_ How did you do this  _

_ Never saying a word _

_ Making me love you more when you're hating me _

_ Contradictions _

_ Kiss me? _

_ Phillip Altman _

__

Okay.

So now;

What's next?

Seems Phillip had taken Patrick Chamoiseau to heart, the structure of the poem was very similar, but not in French.

As she took off her clothes, put them back on the chair, snuggled up against him, he snorted a breath, turned toward her and smiled.

On his back.

Oh Phillip!

How cheeky.

Oh what the hell, he was fast asleep, he wasn't in any position to fight back.

This would serve him right!

Helen slithered down his expensive sheets, threw them over her head and settled by his waist.

No kinks for three months?

That was three months too long for Phillip.

Time for a very unpleasant alarm call.

Going down

===========

Cheeky Phillip;

Reluctant Phillip;

Naughty Phillip;

Are you dreaming of me?

Are you chasing me?

You have nowhere to hide from me now, my eyes see you in your morning glory and my mouth's watering.

You mean something to me, you always have, but there's a twinkle in my eye and a bead on yours. 

It tastes odd, it's viscous and sticky but not entirely unpleasant.

My hand will hold you still, the hair is wiry, but soft, and I'll comb it into order. 

You can groan; 

If you like; 

I don't care;

I wonder what I'm doing in your dream now?

I know I'll be wearing yellow; 

I'll bet I'll even be wearing the infamous Lemon Dress, I hope so, because I am grabbing it when I get home, and I'll make you sorry you ever mentioned it.

Your beautiful brown hair and eyes are like coffee, pouring hot and mellow all over my skin. 

God I'm so hot, how did Katherine ever not want to do this, poor girl, she's missed out on so much fun with you.

Your head is bobbing in my hand and the skin is so soft, yummy soft and I'm going to be so careful; 

And kind, you won't push me away ever again.

I promise.

I'll sink my tongue onto you, and I'll twist it around your head.

It's sweet and sour, bloody hell it's warm, I practiced on my arm one night, the skin on the inside of it was soft, but nothing like this.

It's hot now and discoloured like a bruise, it's the prettiest bruise I've ever seen. 

The cuff at the top seems interesting, against the outside of my cheek it feels fleshy, I could flick it with my tongue. 

I'm going to flick it with my tongue, it bounces back, its like my labia; 

And now I'm going to snog it dizzy; 

You

Are

Delicious.

I'm going to nuzzle into your hair;

I'm going to hum my favourite tune as I do.

Because I read on Scarletteen that men like that, you loved the vibration of my Greedy Gurl, it made you laugh, it made your eyes go wide.

I stared right into them and got lost.

I needed a map to get home, and you beckoned me back with the crook of your fingers, the famous 'Altman Three Finger Twist'.

The day you threw my tights up toward the ceiling fan above this bed, they travelled around and around so fast, we didn't stop laughing for days.

You're as much a fool for me.

As I'm a fool for you.

Lets hold your shaft in both hands and move them up and down, a little faster perhaps?

_ "I can hear you groaning" _

I'm singing that line because I'm happy.

I think, no,  _ I know  _ you're happy too.

Let me do it again.

Ah yes, there it is, and cool, I think I've found another sweet spot. 

This little spongy area underneath, wait I think this is called the Frenulum.

Hello Frenulum! 

My name is Helen. 

I'm pleased to meet you. 

Let's get acquainted; 

We're going to be bezzie mates.

I'm going to hold your gaze until I can calm my heart enough to start again.

Inhaling cool air I resume.

The pulse is getting stronger, maybe I could fondle your balls a little. Would you like that as I run away from you in your dream?

Am I in a forest like The Cure song?

This time you'll find the girl.

And she'll make you cum.

Again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

I can run faster than you on my slender strong legs, the throb I feel in my cheeks getting stronger. 

I wonder if perhaps you would like it if I kissed?

Hmm, here, two of them, a kiss for each; 

Peck; 

Peck.

The scent you're exuding, it's pure Phillip. 

It's heady and musky and nice. 

Poor Katherine; 

Poor 

Poor girl.

No

I'm not sniggering.

I'm re-marking my territory, don't ever show your face to me again girl, I'll wipe the smile off your mug with a back slap of my hand.

I'm enjoying myself, being gentle, going slow. 

Phillip you're reacting to everything I'm doing, I'll rest my forehead on your thigh for a moment, while I take in a breath, you're a little wider than my mouth can take.

But my tongue is dextrous and wet through. 

My hands are strong from lifting books all day, every day.

Men like it sloppy, I'm going to make it so wet you'll think you're inside me. I wonder if we’re making love in your dream now?

Basking bare naked in the sunshine.

The birds covering their eyes with their wings?

Your cock is bending, it's moving, that's so naughty and I'm trying not to giggle, but I can't help it, it's so cute.

Oh god was I affectionate just then?

Eww... no wait... hang on...

Phillip, I understand now why you didn't want me to do this to you.

There's a little white broken line, towards the tip of your cock. 

Oh

My

God

They look like teeth marks.

Oh Phillip, I'm so sorry.

I'm making a purchase later on today, I think Adam&Eve will send me them, I do have a loyalty card. 

I'm going to make damn sure you're never bitten again.

I'm going to be so damn careful; 

I'll stroke with a finger on the gap between your balls; 

It's so sweet you're making all these noises; 

For me. 

It's almost as if you're awake and guiding me to the things;

That you like.

I hope you like this, as much as I like it. Bravery has nothing to do with this, I'm adventurous, and so are you.

We're comfortable with each other's bodies, and want to explore. 

When you found those beads in my 'Naughty Draw' I nearly died. They were clean, I'd only ever tried them once. The sensation was nice, especially when I realised how many I could take comfortably. 

All you did was laugh, twirl them around your index finger and arch an eyebrow.

I always thought you had a lovely arse, the day after I met you I saw it. Rocking back and forth, framed by Janine's bedroom window.

It was pink, a tan line at your waist; 

Your face got big your face got small.

I half envied her as I mowed the lawn, imagining how it must feel to be on the receiving end of your attentions.

I forgot myself for a while, and I liked where you took me.

I imagined you every night.

I bet you never imagined I would?

I could write you a poem, but right now all I'm interested in is your pleasure.

I hope I can make you cum. 

I want you to feel like you made me feel the first night we spent together. 

I want to pay back my debt to you. 

I'll take you as far into my mouth as I can without choking. 

It won't be very far, as this is the first time for me, I'm holding teeth back as I push the flat of my tongue around your tip and I shall suck so gently you won't notice.

I can do this while you sleep, please forgive me when you wa...

Phillip erupted.

He yelled and came so hard.

A roar and he was wide awake, shocked. 

And intensely pleasured.

He'd never felt anything like it, elevated higher and higher as Helen continued to suck, trying to keep him still, holding her teeth back as he came in her mouth. 

A swallow quickly and she gently, but firmly, pumped her fists around his shaft, dragging out his pleasure.

He was annoyed, angry;

Utterly blissed out.

Sweating; 

Livid and lecherous he looked down and found a mound of sheets over Helen's head.

He laughed deep in his chest as he came again, the dribble obscene down her red hot cheek, her hands now on the gaps between his legs and torso, rubbing tiny circles into the flesh as he came down to earth.

_ "Helennnn?" _

Breathless, panting her name.

_ "Good morning Phillip _ "

How could he resist?

How could he be mad at her? 

He lifted the sheets to see her sneaking one final kiss to his balls and growled.

"Naughty Bookworm, what did I ask you?"

"I know I know, but you looked like you needed my help, and I was very careful. I have an idea about how to do this again, I'm gonna make sure you don't feel insecure Phil"

"Hels!"

"Yes sweetie?"

"You do know I won't ever let you leave me now?"

"Not even to go to work?"

That eye, that sneaky sly, sexy eye she shot him from under the sheet, he trembled.

"You're beautiful when you're angry at me Phil, and now, we're even."

That voice, chocolate smooth, English and classy.

He laid back his head and tried to think, felt Helen climb back up his frame, each movement warm and sensuous. 

Marking up her territory with sloppy, noisey, slow, deep kisses.

He hadn't a chance against her onslaught.

He remembered how easy it had been to push her away, opened his arms as she crawled between them and snuggled into his chest.

"I'm very angry at you Hels"

"Tough luck Busta Rhymes, I'm angry at you for fucking your intern"

"Touche"

A sigh in, a stuttered breath as his erection subsided.

His head was on fire.

His ears were ringing;

His body vibrating.

Was this really what he could do, under her instruction?

Under her lips?

What had he been refusing?

For all this time.

Stupid;

Sensible;

Faulty Memories were dumped in the trash.

"We're even?"

"You told me not to do this to you, ever, you had an affair... I think that classes as payback, don't you?"

"I'm still very angry"

"Then I better not look at you, so much beauty could turn me to stone!"

"I half expected you to be gone when I woke up"

Helen didn't have the heart to tell him he was right.

"Shut up and kiss me Phil, you are such a contradiction"

So she'd found that last note. 

Mr Carswell's curse was lifted.

The Runes had been recast.

Turning her over onto her back, gazed into blue deep blue.

And kissed her.

==========

  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Penultimate chapter 
> 
> Where the two are taking it easy, snuggling and talking, and Helen lets a little cat out of the bag!

Let us try again then shall we?

The morning was ebbing away.

Overcast, gloomy.

Inside the apartment was sunshine and ergh...

Sentimentality.

"Well Good morning again then, Phillip"

"Hello again Helen"

Kissed her forehead as she snuggled up into his neck.

"You smell so good"

"Hels, are you always gonna wake me with your mouth on my...?"

"Your Cock, yep indeedy, why, don't you like it?"

"One day I'm gonna shock you, wake you up with a kiss, explode you in my mouth!

"Again?"

"Again... yeah."

A roll of his shoulders, her hair in his mouth.

"I'm looking forward to that" 

"What are you using on your hair it smells like..."

"Banana, it's a new shampoo, do you like it?"

Phillip brushing fingers up and down her sides, came up to the waist, slipped fingers underneath and pinched her ass.

"It smells warm"

"And with your hands on my arse I say again, Good morning Mr Altman how are you?"

"With your cold fingers teasing my dick I say, very well thank you Miss Tradescant, wanna fuck, properly?"

"I'm up for a bit of sex wrestling yeah, what day is it again?"

"Saturday"

"Gotta work?"

"Nope, I have a few days, wanna go buy groceries?"

"How very domestic, think I'd better go pick up some clobber first"

"I have something you could wear, hang on Hels"

Phillip peeled her arms off his torso, she sniggered as he rose from the bed.

"The nicest arse in the world, hurry and come back to me, I want to squeeze it."

"Naughty... you gonna be nice?"

"Depends on what you want me to wear"

Phillip was startled to see the bag on the floor, fallen out of the wardrobe, of course when she'd been looking for the Recurve!

As he bent to retrieve it, he heard a moan from behind him, smiled, knew what she was doing, where she was looking.

He clenched his posterior muscles and smirked as he heard her satisfied groan of pleasure.

"What about this Hels?"

"I wondered about that, it's light as a feather"

"I'm imagining it, how you'd walk into fresh produce wearing this, as you stroke the melons, then the cucumbers, running your hands over the aubergines, all those freezers, pebbling the skin on your arms, then those luscious legs..."

Helen was in fits of giggles, and running hands over his chest.

"I'd freeze to death.

"You'd have to warm up by running to the bakery, I could catch you in the jam donuts, roll you in the sugar!"

"You idiot, I've said so before, you we're listening? I'm warm now, you make me feel so warm, I love you warming me, but what is it?"

It wasn't wrapped in soft tissue, as he'd wanted it to be, instead it was still in its plastic, the packing slip fell out.

"Phil, I cancelled this"

It was Helen's turn to raise an eyebrow as he snuggled into her, sitting on the bed.

"And I phoned and reinstated it, the day after I asked you to move in"

"The week of Hell"

"The week of Hell, it came after I asked you to leave, didn't have the heart to throw it away, I daren't give it to you. I couldn't wear it!"

"Oh my god, Phil, you wearing this, now that's got me very hot indeed!"

"Kinky lady"

"You love it, try it on?"

"I might one day, get it on Hels, lets see you"

Helen flew out of bed, Phillip's black tee was torn off, his eyes went wide to see her body emerge from underneath so rapidly, standing in the cold of his bedroom, tearing at the plastic with her teeth and holding his very late birthday present to her hands.

She undid the ribbon.

She stepped into it, a little unsteadily as Phillip sat at the bottom of the bed, watching.

His mouth watering.

She pulled it up over her thighs, wriggled into it.

Phillip was wriggling too.

Measuring the distance between him and Helen.

Could he make it in one bound?

Helen slipped arms under the straps, the bow of french lace sat neatly between her breasts. 

Sheer

Silky

See through;

And delicate lemon yellow.

No steel bones;

No harsh, overly long cheap silk ribbons.

French white lace frosted over the hips, over the breasts. 

It held her every curve, it brushed every inch of her torso with sensuous fabric. The natural cleavage appeared.

He wanted to lie in her lap and let her feed him.

Morsel by morsel.

Iced Lemon Coconut cake and he;

Was the coffee.

"How does it feel?"

He managed to talk through a throat thick with longing.

"I feel... pretty"

Helen was in tears.

"And you don't feel like a... a..."

"No god no... I feel like a lady, in this"

Phillip didn't need to move, as if he could.

Helen walked to him, put her knee between his and pushed him back to the bed with her eyes.

"Wanna talk some more rubbish Mr Altman?"

"I love talking rubbish, you were so cold when you got into bed last night."

"This flat is cold, it doesn't like me, it never did."

She was gyrating over him again, he could hardly breath.

"Doesn't argh... you are so yummy... it hates me too, bumped my head on the cupboard door last month, I saw stars, I'm seeing stars right now Hels..."

"So it's not just me that can make you see stars then?"

A push of her leg in his crotch, he whimpered.

"Katherine laughed at me"

"Bitch, I might have sniggered, but I'd soon have it soothed better"

The leg was joined by another, she was pushing his legs slowly apart.

"How?"

"In my breasts"

"Come down to me then, snuggle closer, I still feel quite faint."

Left arm came up from her waist and laid flat, back, against his forehead in mock shock.

"Left breasty dumpling and right breasty dumpling eh?"

"Dumpling, you've gone British on me again."

"I've gone full Blackadder, Altman... how do you want to start this, you make me act such a fool"

"I have my hands on heaven, there is nothing quite like the feel of your flesh in my fingers, may I?"

"Am I yummy Mr Altman?"

She sat on his waist, feeling his excitement, his hands rubbing her arse, flicking fingers under the French lace, tickling and caressing the garment she had chosen for herself.

Paid for by;

Her boyfriend?

What the hell, let's call them girlfriend and boyfriend.

Sentimentality does have its place in my story.

It has to.

"Is the world orbiting the sun Miss Tradescant?"

"Aww... sentimentality, kiss me Altman, choose your favorite spot."

"Come down to me then, I'm weary."

Poor man, a disturbed nights sleep, stressful rewarding job. 

An insistent woman in his lap.

Gosh I feel so sorry for him!

We're all sniggering.

"You're tired, you weren't the only one to have had a disturbed nights sleep!"

"And what a disturbance"

Phillips' lips finally reached her, he'd waited.

Kissing through the fabric to her stomach.

The rippling flesh, wrapped in lemon, dusted with icing sugar.

Spoilt man.

"Mess me up?"

"Mess you up, make you scream."

"Flirt"

"Bookworm, you want me to send you to heaven Hels, pay me a compliment, come on... let me roll you on your back and I'll show you how much I love you."

"Okay this is easy, you have the most beautiful arse I have ever seen in my life."

"I thought you admitted to only knowing 3 men in your sexual experience?"

As he said it he kissed up the central hem, heard her sigh and kissed deeper.

"I only admit to 3, so I don't sound too easy... Mr Altman, you gonna interrupt me again?"

"No, I think I might take a stroll over your rolling hills, I'm putting my walking boot on."

"Need a hand?"

"I can manage, hang on"

Phillip stretched over her head to the bedside table and its ever present store of johnnies.

"Never leave home without one Tradescant, make it a cardinal rule!"

Tapped her on the end of the nose with the silver packet and watched the dash of mischief in her eye, the ever present glint of daring, protected and safe.

His playmate.

His other half?

"I shall, now where were we?"

"You were telling me how handsome I am, and I was about to go down on you."

"Oh yes... well you take your time, I'll be right here when you need me."

"You're yummy and so sticky."

"Smart arse, that middle finger of yours is far too clever."

"Umm humm"

In his favorite spot, licking the lace icing at her thigh

"Put down your head and look up from under those bushy eyebrows... oh wow... yeah... growl honey... just like that!"

"Tell me more"

"Here we go, your hair is so beautiful, well... coo pheww weeee... what's that?"

"Warm breath in your belly button, come on Hels, tell me why all the women go mad for Phillip Altman, he needs to know."

"Err... hang on... I can't think.... oh yeah you look so vain, they want to put you down, in your plahey hey hace... wow that's nice... arghhhaltman... make you pay for looking as if they're your first, and your last. They know too _... fuck.... argh...  _ too fuckin well that they're numbers, don't care, against every rule, can't help ourselves, that shaggy head tilts to the side, hair around your face, you swipe it back with your hands and you smile at us. Oh no... no not like that  _ Phillipppppp _ "

Helen covered her eyes with her hand and peeked out from in between.

"I smile, is that all?"

"That smile's so damn disarming, it doesn't matter what you are, what you've done, you could have blood around your mouth, dirt under your fingernails, our panties still go damp and drop when we watch you smile"

She lifted her legs around his waist.

"I'm making notes Tradescant... please do carry on..."

And descended inbetween.

"Greedy man"

"Greedy girl, tell me absolutely everything, every dirty secret, every disgusting detail, you are turning me on, all the way on dirty sexy bookworm."

He unclipped the crotch of her teddy, smiled to hear her sigh.

"I'm the only one to see you laugh, truly laugh, and that's the best, it's the most stomach churningly adorably yucky thing you do, my heart's clammering, especially when it's me that's made you laugh... Phil... do you need a comb?"

"I'll be fine with fingers, do me a favour Hels, never shave down here, it's too bushy, it's too damn soft."

"Shave?"

"Yep, this is like stroking a cat, you know it's got claws, you know it's gonna be feisty, dont shave."

"I do tend the garden with sheers occasionally."

Helen's eyes wide, legs splayed even wider now.

"Then next time, let me"

"Only too pleased to, there are some angles I can't manage."

Now she was laughing, a shudder against Mr P Altman Esq and his lips replaced his fingers. A soft growl from the woman above him, permission to proceed.

"A pleasure to be a gardener in your service Mrs Anstruther"

Helen rolled her stomach and laughed, loud.

"Shit Altman!"

"What?"

As if butter wouldn't melt, now who was being naughty?

"I'm a rose garden?"

"You are indeed, you gonna let me get on with this?"

Did he sound impatient?

Did he sound ready?

Boy was he ready.

"I kept one."

"Kept one what?"

"Your flowers, the yellow roses, I have a dried one in the first birthday book you bought me."

"Aww Hels, now who's being sentimental!"

"I know, soppy and silly, you bouncing up and down like tigger, hair flying everywhere, out of breath and happy, till I told you to fuck off, I'm sorry Phil.

"It's all part of your charm, now what would Mrs Anstruther like for a starter, maybe this?

He tickled the labia, drew an S shape around it and had to hold her still as she began to vibrate.

"Perhaps this?

He pushed aside her flesh, rubbed it in between his thumb and forefinger, a slight pinch of his teeth at her thigh, gentle, heard a growl, deep in her throat.

"Christ man, I can't think..."

"Then let me, know what I saw in you that day?"

"Phillip... dont look up at me, not unless you want to get wet again."

Like he ever listened to a word she ever said.

Take it out of sight Phillip.

Go down and have some fun.

Go down and take what you want.

Take her world to pieces;

Take her life away in a kiss of your lips;

Give her hope;

Stir her inside;

Make her cry;

Why not take your time?

Make her shout surprise;

As she closes her eyes.

"I saw you in those cute pj's, blue with multicoloured stars, you looked like comfort, restful, warm, cuddly comfort."

"Sounds very unsexy arghhhh just to the left, please?"

"As instructed, better?"

"Much... keep going...

Lifted her arms to the bedstead.

And gripped.

For dear life.

No shadows in her life.

No darkness

Dressed in lemon yellow and white

Delectable

Desired

Loved

She twisted her body against him

She twisted her knee into his side

Wanting him happy

Wanting him laughing

Wanting him smiling into her eyes

As he travelled with her into life

Into emotions

Nothing left to say

Hurt left behind

"You looked like comfort and I wanted to hold you, just hold you and squeeze, till I couldn't breath.

"Nice... umm Phil?"

"Yeah"

"Where's that other hand going?"

"You really want to know?"

"Um hmm"

"Somewhere wet and warm."

"Umm hmm"

"Somewhere you're gonna love."

"Yummy"

"Very... sitting in the sunshine, reading your book and looking fine. I needed to be charming, I've not had much chance to be that."

"All the girls said you were charming."

Liar, and Helen knows it too. They said a whole lot more about him, she didn't care. Who were they to say anyway? They'd given up their favours after an hour conversation with him at a bar, at a bookshelf, in a lift.

She'd made him work for it.

She'd made him earn it.

And gifted it all back to him.

"No true, Janice said you were relentless, but gentle. A contradiction, have I really shot you through the heart?"

He looked up and Helen squealed, those damn eyes!

"Helen, have you...?"

"You kept the bow, it's in the living room with your note, catch your breath and come up to me"

"You are so too much"

Heart clammering

Limbs aching

Skin tingling

Eyes half lidded and full of humour.

"Come back up here and kiss me on these lips, please?"

"Shut you up?"

"Oh no, I want to... you know..."

"Use my walking boot?"

"Till your arse is boucing off the ceiling, yeah."

"You talk so dirty, for a girl"

"Your talk is cheap, come on man, now."

"Ask me, say please."

"No"

"You gonna be bad?"

"Yeah, tell me off for being rude, it was not me that was so lewd."

"You gonna be very naughty?"

"Definitely"

"Good, hold very still"

Lifted out of her lap, kissing up her stomach, through the lemon scented hills, across the lanes of lace, around the crescent moons above her breasts as she sniggered and giggled.

"It's warm Phil, and wet."

Feeling his erection push through her labia, knocking for admittance.

"I hope so, wait... "

Another twist of those snake hips of his and she squealed.

"Better?"

"You have the gentle touch, you make me so mad"

Hands in his hair, a tug to bring his lips to hers.

"Hels, open those crazy eyes"

"I can't, I can't, I'll come before you're inside me, I will I can feel it."

"Think of Joe."

An odd suggestion.

He daren't say who he used when he wanted to delay the reaction, delay his orgasm.

She was a close relation!

Whoops.

"Eww, Altman that's gross"

"Is it working?"

"Yes it bloody well is... ergh.... oh wait... hahaha... oh god I'd forgotten that!"

A snigger, she brought her hand to her nose and rubbed it warm, then a giggle as Phillip kissed the end of it.

"What're you laughing at now?"

"Just a thought, I shouldn't tell you really"

"I will only interrogate you after this, better now, than when you can't breathe for screaming"

"Phil, you'll laugh."

He pulled up, leant both arms by her sides, his erection warm and resting on her stomach.

"I mentioned Joe was big right?"

"So you said..."

Not without a little envy in Phillip's heart.

"Do you know what I caught him doing once, when I got home from work?"

"I can imagine, but go on..."

"Yoghurt"

Helen had to blurt the word out, her laughter getting stronger, the muscles of her stomach pulling taught, against Phillip's abdomen, that was an unusual and very stimulating sensation.

"Sorry?"

The eyebrow raise.

Helen was now belly laughing, trying to roll onto her side. 

Phillips arms prevented that.

"Yoghurt, raspberry I think... and wanking, watching women's figure skating, the flat reeked of it for a week after, I couldn't get it out of the settee cushions."

"Raspberry yoghurt, where?"

"In the flat"

"No I mean... what was he smearing the..."

"Over his cock, his chest, he even got it up his arse, no idea how that happened, I laughed so hard I cried, he didn't see the funny side. I would have stopped if he'd laughed with me, bloody idiot, ashamed and embarrassed!"

"Puts my hand cream incident in the shade."

"It does, but you were only 11, Joe was 29, old enough to ask his girlfriend to help. Instead all he did was shower it off and go through the dairy aisle at Walmart at a dead run."

She was laughing hard, running her hands up his arms, tickling his chest rising against him and kissing his neck between giggles. Laughing harder as he gulped air, trying to resist the urge to collapse against her.

He was wheezing, crying with laughter.

"The dickhead, but raspberry yoghurt's got..."

"Pips in it yeah, when I see a tub of Muller I still laugh to this day."

"Fuck me Tradescant, do you always attract the deviants?"

He rubbed the tears from his eyes.

"Seems so... I can breath again just... ready?"

"Raspberry yoghurt, fuck me!"

"I know, told you you'd laugh"

Phillip took in a deep breath, he looked as if he were about to give a lecture, through a smile wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

"I'm shocked, what an idiot, we all know plain is best, greek with honey is the finest"

"What the HELL?"

Helen flew down to the bed, it rocked under the movement, Phillip moved down a little and began to tickle her again.

"Hahahah... knew it... It's on the grocery list fo' real!"

"You cheeky git... well I know where it's not being spread, I heard women use it for yeast infections, but thats going a bit far, anyway it has to be live yoghurt"

Phillip laughed, began to stroke her neck with his nose.

Cold

Hard

Aimed to perfection to turn Helen's giggles into moans.

"Just your chest my lady, maybe your ass..."

"Eww... don't you bloody dare!"

"Nutella?"

A kiss under her armpit, delicious, warm, soft and damp.

"Seriously just fuck off Altman... that's for digestive biscuits"

"What?"

He kissed up her chest and followed by a long luxurious snog under her chin.

"You never tried it?"

Breathless, her legs wound around his, opening them up wider. Cool air now between both.

"Another purchase on the grocery list, anything else?"

"Clotted cream"

"What the hell is that?"

Lined up, a slight push.

Just one.

"Cream, that is clotted."

"Sounds yuk"

"Don't knock till you try Altman, you get a biccy, you spread it with Nutella, then you pop clotted cream on the top."

"Sounds like a S'more, come on Tradescant, give me sh'more"

Another push, resistance, then a long push in.

She was shaking, holding her breath.

"Better, infinitely better, but it's always Nuttella first, very important."

"Done, now where were we?"

"Somewhere in the Derbyshire Peak District I think, I've missed this, I've missed you so much"

"You sure it wasn't Lands End?"

A thrust.

Closed his eyes

And concentrated on the next.

Searching for the sponge cake;

Searching for the sweet spot.

Searching for the pot of jam.

"Maybe... kiss me sweet lips"

"A pleasure"

A push from Helen, a twist to the side.

The stroll through the Derbyshire Peak District was always more pleasurable when you knew there would be a cream tea at the end of the five mile walk.

Helen saw the coffee pot boil over.

And all she had to do was tell Phillip that he was loved.

==========

  
  
  
  



	22. EPILOGUE

I thought;

If you were interested;

You might like to know what happened to this ridiculous pair of love birds?

Not much.

Helen carried on working at the Library and Phillip enjoyed the benefits of business class travel.

Helen went with him once or twice, mainly on the European jaunts, when the company would allow her to tag along.

She enjoyed seeing England again, leaving it when she was 18 years old, she remembered very little. 

Phillip had a short meeting in London, then the rest of the week was theirs. But a long tedious train ride to her hometown, left her disappointed, disillusioned and ready to go home.

Phillip loved the place, run down and ordinary, the smell of fish and chip shops, the furtive unhappy people and the way they stared at him.

The way everything was wet, grey and expensive.

Helen knew he was just as eager to return home, but putting on a brave face for her benefit.

A change of airline tickets and they were back, sleeping off the jet lag, in brand new sheets on a brand new bed, in a brand new apartment on a brand new side of town.

He hated his mother's taste as much as Helen did.

This time there were photographs, postcards and badges pinned to the walls, posters of old horror movies and music bands Helen and Phillip loved, plastering the front room walls.

Character;

Lots of it.

Chaos; 

It was so untidy.

Colour; 

It left you with a headache after half an hour.

Craziness;

Wonky, cockeyed, each person's interests up on the walls to enjoy, to rediscover and revel in.

The kitchen door could be closed, the bathroom wasn't all hard lines and sharp edges, the bath.

Oh my god the bath! 

Helen could swim in it, had swum in it, and with Phillip's right hand under her head, his left hand embracing. 

Helen never wanted to shower again.

A low ceiling, warm wooden floored bedroom, a mushy, pillow soft cradle to sleep in.

Home.

The bricks of the last support for their backs were piled in the corner.

For old times sake.

Just in case!

Their apartment was warm and welcoming, more to his taste, more to hers.

No pastels.

No black and white art.

Hundreds of books.

And a garden.

Zoe and Consuela the first to visit.

Impressed by the library, Consuela said it was like walking into her shop, she recognised Phillip's collection, she'd sold him most of it.

No baby room.

Neither of them wanted that, neither of them wanted to rub Zoe or Consuela's noses in another failure. Sad, but hope was still there, this time Consuela was stepping up to the plate.

Helen sat with her Boosh mug; 

Consuela sat with the Tea Rex; 

Both feet on the mushy sofa; 

Laughing as Zoe braided Phillip's hair, sitting on the floor between the bolshy black lady's strong thighs, he threw a cushion at them both and closed eyes to smile, antagonising his lover.

A wince, once or twice as Zoe pulled, getting her own back, and he leaned closer, there to be pampered by the Three Horsemen.

A foursome?

Kinky sod.

He could dream though.

Right?

Phillip couldn't find another 'Denis The Penis'

Aw shucks, what a pity!

Hilary had instead gifted her wedding dinner service set, Helen had thanked her, put it all in the back of the cupboard.

It was white, too dainty to use everyday.

Instead Helen popped to the charity shop and bought back a pot which poured from the side, top a different colour from the bottom.

'Two Tone Tea' it got named; 

Phillip's idea of course.

Helen said it was Ska, very Specials, utter Madness!

Consuela was pouring herself and Helen another cup, then refreshing Zoe's Big Ben, and Phillip's Fresh Prince mugs of coffee.

Zoe had brought a Date and Walnut cake as a Flat Warming present, Helen had snaffled the walnuts from the top, much to Zoe's amusement, just like she used to.

Nothing ever changed.

Consuela and Phillip were firm friends. 

Had suggested a few marketing ideas to her, they'd been so successful she had enough money in the company accounts now, to consider a second branch, closer to the centre of town.

Wondering to herself if perhaps Helen would like to manage it for her?

Time for that when the two lovebirds were separated. Zoe saw the look in Helen's eyes, and Consuela saw the glint of mischief in Phillip's.

Helen crumbled into his arms soon as the Calderera's left. Phillip lifted and threw her onto the bed, reaching her lips as she came up for his.

Helen's unbuttoning his shirt;

Phillip's undoing the belt of her dress.

Helen's unzipping his fly;

Phillip's opening the dress wrappings and sinking his lips onto her skin.

Helen was praying to him, saying anything to him that he wanted her to, she'd sing to him if he asked her to.

She was in chains.

Phillip was nipping at her breasts through the white underwear, his head dizzy, his eyes burning fire, he'd set the world ablaze for one surreptitious side glance from those blue British eyes.

But now her lingerie was made of French silk and lace, she'd given in to his persuasion, and let him buy it for her.

Independence was fine, for a single person.

But to be independent in a relationship was completely different.

It came with responsibilities.

One - to be kind

Two - to be considerate.

Three - to be understanding.

And Phillip Altman learnt that even if he did check out a pretty girl in the checkout queue, then that was fine.

Because nine times out of ten;

Helen was doing the same thing.

The first time he caught her, he asked her why.

The answer took his breath away.

==========

"Hello"

"Can I help you sir"

"Umm, do you have Sri Lankan, I can't see..."

"Bottom shelf... sir"

He had her, that sweet innocent smile, dressed in Walmart drag.

"Thanks honey"

She lingered by the cart, tidying the shelves, or at least giving the outward appearance of doing so.

"Would... sir... like any help with anything else?"

She hitched her hip and lowered her voice, it was mellow and toned, a slight Spanish hit of flavour, like smoked Paprika.

"Hmm"

"I can recommend the Brazilian blend, comes from a place just outside Sao Paulo"

"I bet you can"

Phillip...

Be careful now;

Don't hurt her;

She's vulnerable;

Young;

And kind.

"It's very rich, smooth... sirrrr"

"Smooth as that line was?"

It was number 12 in his pick up line bible.

"Smoother"

"Sounds yummy, I'll buy it too"

Taking it from her, brushed the back of her hand with his fingers, and winked.

He threw the packet of coffee in the cart, eyes never leaving her face.

"You wont regret it."

"I'm sure I won't"

==========

"Hey Phil"

She pecked him on the cheek as he pushed the cart to the tills.

"Bookworm, got what you need?"

"I found them yes, I had to ask for Taylors of Harrogate, they always put it in the bloody 'Foreign' section, cheeky sod... you've been flirting again."

She pulled back, hit him playfully on the arm.

"No I haven't"

Phillip walked on, pinching his bottom lip with his top teeth.

"Yes you bloody well have, you're glowing bright pink"

"Am not"

"Are too, pink as your bum, it's a very good look."

Running up behind him, she slapped, then put her hand in his back jean pocket.

And squeezed, her chin on his shoulder.

Brush of lip on his ear lobe and he turned to speak bashfully.

"Do I go red then?"

"So you have been flirting, okay where is she?"

"Aww shit, she's at the cash register."

No avoiding the confrontation now, Naughty Mr Altman, it's the only one open.

Oh dear what a shame!

We're all giggling.

"Hmm, we'll see about this."

"Don't go making a scene, I'm sorry Hels"

"What for?"

"Hmm...?"

He pulled her hand from his pocket and kept on walking.

"I said what are you sorry for?"

"For, coming on to her, I mean she was the one who started it"

"Oh you men always say that, sheer vanity, let's get this sorted out."

Helen sounded annoyed now, if Phillip had turned to watch the play of emotion on her face, his heart rate may have resumed it's normal pace.

Shit.

==========

"That'll be $178.35c"

The sales assistant had watched her gorgeous flirty coffee buyer from earlier, load up and repack, hurriedly. She was sad that he'd get through her register at double quick speed. 

He was nice to watch.

"Right"

Helen was watching him too.

Ripple of muscle at his back, just above his bum as it disappeared into his jeans, the white shirt covering, or attempting, to cover a powerful chest.

The woman at the till was admiring the same things as he slowly walked the cart out of the store.

She had good taste, was a little startled as the smart woman with the money spoke.

"Do you mind me asking, what the perfume is you're wearing?"

"Umm, its 'Diamonds' by... Armani"

"It's very warm, it smells like Refresher sweets, pretty."

"I like sweet perfumes"

"Sweet... just like the wearer"

Phillip stopped dead in the walkway, still within earshot. Began to drag the cart backwards, it protested but the driver was determined.

"Umm... do you have your loyalty card please ma'am?"

"Yep, sorry under my credit, here... you have the nicest hands"

"Umm, thanks... I have to use a lot of hand cream, this place dries out your skin"

"And the varnish, what a beautiful colour, Mauve."

"I should take it off really, Walmart doesn't like it, but they're acrylics, had them done for my date last week, I can't get them off."

"I'll never tell, and the colour suits you very well, the date was a very lucky person."

"Thanks, he thought so, I didn't, only talked about himself, I was so bored.... I like your eyeshadow, not many people can get away with blue, brings out your eyes"

The cashier at the till was bashful, pretty sweet, beautifull, she was so shy.

Phillip hadn't got that reaction when he spoke to her.

Is that envy you feel in your stomach Phil?

Is that longing you feel in your heart Phil?

Is that being talked about which is turning your ears pretty pink;

Phil?

"You need to be more assertive, you want to talk about something, you do it, or you stand up and leave the table, don't ever be afraid to tell them to fuck off and stop wasting your time, the eyeliner is an old Avon one - Arabian Glow, do you think it suits me then?"

"Yeah, makes your eyes look piercing, so pretty and you're glowing, your receipt"

"Many thanks, Lorena... what does it mean, it's a beautiful name."

"It's our version of Laura, honor and victory mum says, a Laurel tree."

"I love it, oh so sorry to ask you this Lorena... was he coming on to you earlier?"

Helen hooked her thumb over her shoulder, she knew he was earwigging.

"Who?"

"The mountain man back there, who was packing my bags?"

"Mmm... no.. well I.. I didn't know..."

"Didn't know what?"

"That he was your boyfriend"

"How could you, I wasn't with him, anyway he could be my brother for all you know!"

"Is he?"

Lorena sounded hopeful.

"Sorry honey, no."

"Oh, then I'm so sorry, you won't... I mean... were not supposed to flirt with customers"

"Please god don't be sorry, his head is so wide right now, he loves the attention, but hey... between us two... what attracted you?"

"I shouldn't..."

"Yes you should, come on we're both smitten, tell me, what was it that you saw first?"

"His legs, god I'm sorry, I never meant to..."

Lorena was now sweating, concerned, breathing erratic.

Phillip wasn't much better.

Helen was serene.

"Yes you did you cheeky little minx, he has got nice legs, hasn't he?"

Helen turned to look at him, now Phillip was beating a hasty retreat to the car park.

And was that;

A kick;

In his step?

Cheeky bugger, that arse was rippling.

Lorena and Helen giggled and smiled after him.

"And that smile, wow it's gorgeous."

Lorena would remember his smile for weeks.

"Yes, I like to call it the 'Drop Knickers' smile... it needs to be kept in a jar that does sometimes, when it's opened, it's like letting the Genie escape."

"It's devilish, you're so lucky."

"Think so, he is a handful sometimes, keeps me on my toes fo' sure"

Lorena grinning from ear to ear as she began to ring up the next batch of groceries.

"A nice handful?"

"A very nice handful... if I ever tire of him, you want a go?"

Lorena laughed away the comment, smiled at her next customer, breathed in her perfume and began to calm.

==========

She told him Lorena was so cute, and she'd wondered what it would be like to kiss the lips, stroke the hair, fondle the body.

Phillip hadn't gotten as far as the name, Helen was much more adept at picking up the ladies.

Dang!

Hot?

Fuck me yes;

Very.

Phillip did nothing, just stood in the parking lot, lifted the groceries into the back of the Jaguar and pondered, slack jawed as 'Little Miss Innocent' returned the cart/trolley to the bay.

"What?"

She asked as she returned, swaying her hips, and dancing around him, pulling at his shirt, ruffling his hair, humming a hip hop tune he thought could be '4 Better 4 Worse' by The Pharcyde.

"I'm stunned"

"Well you did ask for it Phil"

Taking him by the collar, pulled him in to push him back, she'd lifted his car keys from his pocket.

Tea Leaf!

"I don't know what to say"

"Today is a day of firsts"

"May I ask you something else?"

"You're brave, go on, what's up now?"

"When you look at other men..."

"I do not!"

"Oh yes you do Hels, the guy in the cinema queue last week..."

Phillip spoke over the roof of the car.

"Oh yeah, himmmmm..."

Helen looked wistful as she got into the drivers seat.

"Yeah, umm... I am gonna come out with it straight... Hels...?"

"Yes, I imagine what you and he would get up to in bed too, yummy, it's making me hot just considering it."

"Oh my god"

"I told you, you don't want to know, don't ask"

"I'm not sure how to respond."

"I know how I'd like you to respond, you beautiful arse, but let me put a question to you first, were you attracted to him as much as I was?"

A pause as he got into the car.

He needed to still his heart.

He had considered it!

"Well... he was well built, a bit short for me, his hair looked soft though."

Helen burst out laughing, Phillip sounded coy, 

Reluctant;

And very cute.

Helen wasn't fooled.

She saw Phillip's look of mischief.

She saw Phillip's 'Drop Knickers' smile.

She knew;

She always knew.

"My Bashful Bestie, you seriously think he would look at you twice, you're so vain Altman, you don't shock me anymore."

"Oh shut up Tradescant, hey, why am I in the passenger seat?"

"Cos it's my turn, you did promise"

"Is it because we have to go to Mom's tonight, you think I won't want to drive us there, so you're driving instead?"

"It had crossed my mind"

"Hmm... have we time, before we go... to... you know?"

A lean of his head to the side, a pout of the bottom lip.

Very;

Very tempting;

Indeed.

"Another first, Altman, I never thought I'd ask you this but, are you shy of asking for my body?"

"I am when my Beautiful Bestie tells me she fancies the women I chat up, yeah, very shy, totally shy, painfully shy, shit woman, where've you been all my life?"

He leant in, kissed the forehead with his own, began to tickle her leg, pushing a hand in between.

"You have very good taste in women, are you envious, think I'd have more of a chance, than you would?"

Helen held out her bottom lip, a pout which Phillip pecked with his own.

"I'm seriously considering if I have competition, yes"

"No competition sweet cheeks, and yes we have time for a fuck before we have to go to your mothers, if we roll, now..."

"You spoil me"

"And you spoil me too... come on Mr Talented Tongue, get that belt on"

Phillip nipped at her neck as she pulled into traffic, the velvet box next to his Johnny, in his back pocket, digging into those beautiful arse cheeks, squishing his little surprise.

He was pleased he'd had time to pick it up from before she finished at the store.

Maybe Phillip would have time to ask Helen before sloping off to his mothers for another 'Interrogation Party'

And Helen giggled; 

Excited at the prospect of a very hot; 

Very cheeky;

Hit and run.

==========

**THE END**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Dear Reader, this is the end, my friend.
> 
> I have enjoyed writing this foolishness, I've learnt a great deal, laughed, cried, got angry over this. I'm half sorry half glad to be ending. The characters have wrestled themselves out of my head, into my hands, and onto paper. They live for me, and will stay with me forever now.
> 
> I may have taken many liberties with the character of Phillip Altman, and I know that not everyone agrees with my take on him, but then they are allowed to do that, as the actor, Mr Adam Driver, has not had enough of the film to sketch him a full arc, or to answer questions such as;
> 
> "What would Phillip do if he did actually fall in love with somebody?"
> 
> "What would Phillip do if he cheated on that person with another, would he go back to them if it didn't work out, would he care how his ex felt?"
> 
> One of the biggest questions was;
> 
> "Would Phillip really wait five years {The duration of Helen's courtship} to win her as his partner, would he have the patience, resilience, would he get bored of the chase, tire of her and move on to someone easy?"
> 
> I've tried to answer these questions myself, but without talking to the original writer of the book the film was based on, and also speaking to Mr Driver, I really have no idea.
> 
> This is my idea of Phillip, its how I see him, how I feel he would act.
> 
> If you have read this since I began to post in September, many MANY thanks for sticking with me, riding the rollercoaster, bearing with my moods, I hope you have enjoyed this, and will maybe return to the story, or perhaps be kind enough recommend to a friend.
> 
> If you have just read this from beginning to end, in one or maybe two sittings, I hope the story works well, I didn't start to post it until I had finished it, I wanted to keep continuity, and pace it correctly. And although the ending did change from the original, the story is as I first envisioned it.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you wish, if you have something you'd like to say, or drop me a line on Tumblr where you will find me as @morby.
> 
> I would be very pleased to hear from you.
> 
> Well this is the end, I bid you a fond farewell.
> 
> With all my Love  
> Morby


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